


'39

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Death, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Vague depictions of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-11-04 09:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: Two men brought together due to unique circumstances are ultimately torn apart by societies proper standards and a war going on across the sea.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. This is what happens when Alona watched The Women In White and The Pacific back to back. Honest to God, this was only supposed to be a fun one shot and then it got longer and more depressing. Christ in Cthulhu blesses me because I got legitimate headaches writing this. Hopefully, it was worth it all. 
> 
> I didn't exactly make a clean timeline for it. Make it WWII or whatever war you want. I try to keep my stories as vague as humanly possible. Basically, Joe is Eugene Sledge in this story and Ben is Walter Hartright. 
> 
> Please watch both as soon as possible. They were both beautiful and amazing and heartbreaking.

 

Joe was just seventeen when his mother hired him a painting instructor. He didn’t have much ambition and she wanted her son to be more well-rounded. To have a bit of culture in him despite having never left their little town. 

 

The man came from across the seas; some painting prodigy that was pretty well known over in Europe though nobody gave a lick about him here. His parents were going to pay him well and even let him stay in their home for the time being. It was big enough. They had a good stretch of land and even had gates in front of their home, but it wasn’t a mansion like some other peoples homes. 

 

His friend Rami came from money. He lived in a big mansion on the hill where parties were always thrown. People drank and danced endlessly. Joe wasn’t much for dancing, nor was he much for drinking. Nobody really knew what he liked to do and to be honest, neither did Joe. Not that he minded much. 

 

His daddy was a doctor and he was certain he would follow in his footsteps. Right now, none of that mattered, however. He was young and fresh out of school and his mama wanted him to paint. To make her a pretty picture to hang over the mantle so she could show off to all her friends. 

 

Joe didn’t know what to expect when the instructor arrived, but he found himself taken back by the sight of him. He didn’t look much like an artist, but rather a work of art. He was increasingly handsome, almost intimidatingly so. There were some good looking people in their town, but nobody like this. 

 

Nobody who had a smile that could light up the whole room or had a booming voice with a delicious accent. It threw Joe off immensely. He played it off as just regular old nerves bundling up around him. He wasn't very good at art. Never had been. Shit, he couldn’t even draw a decent heart let alone a gorgeous horizon. 

 

The man — Ben as he had given his name — didn’t seem faltered in the least. He was thankful for the career opportunity in the states and was ready to take on any challenge the Mazzello’s threw at him. 

 

It remained casual mostly. They would work on something every day, whether it would be a simple sketch that Joe had been working on in his mind or a full-blown portrait. Ben had insisted that everybody was an artist in one way or another and that the key to unlocking those talents laid deep inside the person. 

 

Joe took that was his way of saying even if Joe was absolute garbage at art, that he surely had to be good at something else, right? Joe would never allow it to bother him, not really. He didn’t plan on becoming some great American artist and sell his works by the hundreds. All he cared about was making his mama happy and making sure that Mr. Hardy got a decent days to work out of him. 

 

If he was to be taken in by his family then Joe wanted the man to at least pay his dues. Neither man seemed interested in skipping their lessons, which seemed interesting enough. They started out slow, keeping it all professional. Joe had been a bit of a jokester back in school, but he knew the man didn’t come all this way just to see his student act like a buffoon. 

 

Eventually, they began to relax around one another and their lessons became less boring as they went on. Ben began teaching him other things, such as languages and literature. He could speak Spanish and French and he brought enough books with him to stock a small library. 

 

The reading Joe didn’t mind so much. He had always been a bit of a fanboy when it came to certain comic books so novels weren’t very far off. Poetry never interested any of the people around him, but Joe found it fascinating. So much so he began keeping a journal with him at all times to write down the thoughts that would pop into his head. 

 

Some were written in perfect harmony while others didn’t make a lick of sense. He never minded really and neither did Ben, who stumbled upon him writing one morning. The air was cooler than normal and Joe found comfort sitting belong a tree in his back yard. He was working on his latest piece when the blond plopped beside him. 

 

He never allowed anyone to read his work before, but he felt an artistic connection with the man and allowed him to take a look. Ben was impressed, to say the least. While his true form of art would always relay in images, there was no denying in the beauty and meaning behind Joe’s words. 

 

He had requested more and while writing for purpose over pleasure was new to the brunet, he found it easy to come up with little letters and soliloquies for the man. He would write at least three a day, turning them all into him like they were homework that needed to be graded. Ben loved them all more and more and before Joe knew it, he was printing out more works than he knew what to do with. 

 

He collected them all in a small chest he kept in his room, hidden away from the world except for himself and Ben. The last thing he needed was his parents to see some of the things he had pulled from his heartstrings. 

 

Some were as simple as describing the weather while others went into depth about his own personal feelings, using metaphors and similes to drag his point across. The only person Joe trusted with his work was Ben. He found that he began to crave the man's attention, hoping to wow him with each passing piece he came up for him. 

 

He was getting better at painting, but not by much. Ben decided one afternoon that they needed a change in scenery and swept them away to the ocean side. Joe knew the place well enough as he had spent his childhood running along the shore with his friends and family and dog. 

 

Sitting up on the green grass on the hill, watching as the tide rolled in. It should have inspired Joe to a point, but it didn’t. No, what brought a fire out in his heart was watching Ben and how he presented the situation. It was such an easy thing to do. Just come to America and teach a good old fashioned boy how to make a pretty picture. 

 

Joe didn’t expect him to put in as much effort as he did. He didn’t expect Ben to care as much as he did. He made the world of art seem like it was something worth taking seriously and even if Joe knew he would never have a future in the field, he found himself slowly falling in love with the world of it. 

 

He felt himself slowly falling for Ben as well, but he ignored those feelings for as long as possible. They would spend quite a bit of time together, having both be living on the same estate now. Joe was an only child, making his upbringing a bit more lonely than others. They didn’t have any servants other than the few that would tend to the garden every few days, so Joe had grown used to having nobody other than his dog and parents to talk to. 

 

Now there was this handsome Englishman who was speaking with such loveliness, showing him a world he didn’t even truly know existed. He was kind and gracious, smart yet precocious. He never had a bad word to say about anyone, even the assholes in town who were more than happy to make him feel unwelcome. 

 

He dressed nicely and spoke so carefully, he caused all women to giggle at the very sight of him yet he never tried to go after them. Men in town didn’t like him much and it was easy for the words ‘faggot’ or ‘queer’ to get thrown around here and there. Joe never let anything happen to him, but there had been a few times when Ben had nearly gotten his face pounded in by not backing down to someone who was taunting him. 

 

Ben said that real men did not fight, but rather stood their ground and kept their pride. Joe just wanted to make it one day into town without someone either flirting or him or threatening to pound his face in. 

 

Ben didn’t seem bothered, however. He was wise like that. He focused on the more important things, such as life, and love, and capturing the little things like the American Dream. 

 

Joe wished he had the same about of confidence Ben had. To just not care about what other people thought about him. Joe found himself wondered, however, if the little things he had noticed and the words people had called him all meant the same thing. 

 

Ben would flirt and kiss the hands of the ladies he met but he’d never accepted their invitations to go driving or take a walk through the park. Joe lived in the same place for his entire life and he never once had a girl ask him out. 

 

There had been one girl who he was slightly interested, but that was due to every guy in the fucking town wanting to be with her. Lucy was pretty and kind and sweet. Rami won her over and while Joe pretended to be a heartbroken brat over it, he had literally no intentions of going after her. She was just something nice to look at as she fit the profile of the perfect little wife. 

 

Joe wasn’t lying to himself when he came up empty when he thought of his future. He didn’t see a career or a wife. He just saw himself, sitting in a field of flowers, basking in the warm southern sun. And that was enough for him. 

 

Ben had a promising future but continued to turn down the chance of returning to his homeland. He appeared content just sitting and teaching the Mazzello boy. Joe constantly bit back the urge to ask him the truth. If the whispers and rumors were real or if people were just jealous and afraid of something they didn’t understand. 

 

Joe didn’t understand either, realizing that over time that the blond had utterly bewitched him. He never thought of someone the way he thought of Ben and while it was a dangerous game he was playing, Joe was always determined to come out on top a winner. 

 

Joe had cornered him one day, deciding enough was enough and dropped the ball on him. Joe expected Ben to deny it right out or demand that he keep the secret. Instead, Ben just shrugged and kept on painting. 

 

“Labels are not what makes a man who he is. They merely inflate his ego.” He had replied, switching his wrist around to get the perfect shape of the flower petal he was currently working on.

 

Joe wanted to bash his head through the fucking easel. Instead of just confessing or deny it, he had to make it into some strange game. Joe wanted to be mad and demand answers, but he knew he didn’t have a say in Ben’s choice.

 

He could speak in fucking tongues for all that mattered. In the end, if Ben was content living his life the way he was and didn’t hurt anyone, who the hell was Joe to judge? 

 

Still, he found himself getting frustrated. Not so much by Ben himself, but rather the situation around them. Joe felt so lost in himself and yet Ben handled himself with such ease. Late at night, they would sit outside, trying to escape the heat of the house. With their hair and shirts wet with sweat they would speak softly in the moonlight about whatever crossed their minds. 

 

Sometimes it was simple things, like how Ben was adjusting to America. Other time they would go back and forth, quietly exchanging words of poetry. Ben was the only person Joe felt like he could be real with. The only person he could confide in. 

 

To everyone else, he would put on that big smile and perk up his southern charm. Ben wasn’t the only one who could win people over by putting on a show, though the blond saw right through him. Ben had caught him one night, cornering him after he spent the entire supper avoiding his mother's questions of the future. 

 

Ben had suggested Joe focus on his writing. That he became an American poet like the men and women they would read about. Joe scoffed at the idea. He wasn’t a writer. He wasn’t an artist. He was just a small town guy with too many thoughts in his head. 

 

They had gotten into a scuffle because of it. Ben spoke far too boldly and called him a coward, insisting that the young man was more than content with spending his life doing absolutely nothing than to handle the fear of missed opportunities. 

 

Joe didn’t like those words one bit and was more than happy to make the blond pay for them. The gardener pulled them apart and Joe’s mama made it very clear she wasn’t going to allow such behavior in the house. She gave the two young men a choice: either clear up whatever was going on or their lessons would go no further. 

 

Ben made no objections as he knew damn well none of this was his fault. He allowed the ball to bounce in Joe’s court and while Joe wanted nothing more than to take said ball and bash it into the pretty painters head, he swallowed down and let him keep his job. 

 

He didn’t know why really. Maybe because Ben had been right all along. That he was scared and felt worthless almost all the time. That the only time Joe felt anything was when they were working on some piece of art, whether it be writing or drawing or painting. 

 

He found Ben by the waterside, sitting in the sand with his sketchbook in hand. He was so focused on what he had been making that he didn’t even realize the brunet was creeping up behind him. 

 

Joe owned him an apology and he planned on giving him one and telling him that he told his mother that he could stay. That the fight had been of his own making and was just a misunderstanding between the two. Before he could even start, however, Ben began speaking. 

 

“Have you ever imagined paradise, Joseph?” He asked, his eyes drifting out to the sea. 

 

On his lap as his leather bound sketchbook, a private object Joe had seen in passing but never grew up enough courage to look inside. 

 

“Nirvana can be many things to many different people. To some, they think of it was an endless liquor cabinet. To others, a loving nursery in the family home. But this, this is my paradise, Joe. This is my garden of Eden.” 

 

Joe followed his gaze, watching the green grass around them blow in the wind, the gentle waves crash onto the shore. It was a picturesque sight, to say the least. One that could never be fully captured in a picture, even if they tried. 

 

Ben turned his head suddenly and only then did Joe realize how close the two had been sitting. “Except in my version, Joe. There are two Adam’s and no Eve’s.” 

 

Joe wanted to question his vision but found his thoughts cut off at the seam as Ben closed the gap between them. Kissing someone wasn’t new to Joe, but he also wasn’t a pro either. He wasn’t a Romeo like Rami was. He didn’t have the smooth way of speaking that got all the ladies hanging on his every word.

 

The only two girls he had ever kissed were friends back in school; one when they were in the eighth grade on a dare and the other was during a game of spin the bottle that ended with Joe rushing out to the backyard to throw up all the moonshine he had consumed. 

 

Joe had never kissed another man before. The thought never even crossed his mind until now. When Ben pulled away, Joe was left staring at him. Mouth ajar, frozen in suspense. 

 

“I will tell your mother I’ll be taking my leave in the morning,” Ben muttered to him and then proceeded to push off the ground, leaving Joe sitting alone in the sand by the sea. 

 

Joe sat by the water until it grew dark and the bike ride home took longer than usual. His mind continued to go back to Ben and his words and his kiss. Homosexuality did exist in his world but it wasn’t spoken of lightly or even in the best of ways. He had seen Ben take the abuse by some nearly every time they went into town. 

 

At first, he thought they were just being cruel. That be was an outsider who was incredibly polite and to the thickheaded morons in this town, that was enough proof that he preferred to be with men than women. 

 

It became clear to Joe now that Ben knew exactly who he was and had no plans on hiding it. And that infuriated Joe even further than before. The bible spoke of this sort of thing. One man does not lay with another the way he would lay with a woman, it just wasn’t natural. 

 

And yet Joe still found himself laying in his bed, tossing and turning as images of the beautiful art instructor danced around in his mind. Eventually, it became too much for the man to bear. 

 

Instead of staying in his room and allowing Ben to take his leave as he had planned to, the brunet made his way down the hall to where Ben’s room currently was. He had seen in films were the person waking up looked as good as they did when they went to bed. It was all movie magic, obviously, but not for Ben. 

 

His sleep shirt was unbuttoned just enough to give a decent look at his chest and his hair tussled here and there. His voice was heavier in sleep but he looked alert when he caught sight of Joe. For a moment, the brunet thought he saw fear in his eyes and wondered if he thought this would be some form of lynching coming his way. 

 

He did think Joe was there to hurt him for what he had done? Joe wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t think about it. A small part of his mind was disgusted by the act and wanted to beat it out of his system. 

 

“I’m not like you,” Joe told him bluntly. “I don’t imagine the sea or the wind or having another Adam over an Eve. I don’t imagine anything.” 

 

“Duly noted,” Ben replied simply. 

 

“I don’t want you to go.” He added on. “I won’t . . . tell anybody what happened. Whether or not we agree to disagree on certain things, I do like having you around. And I’d prefer it if you did not leave just yet.” 

 

“If I may speak so freely, I do not see a purpose in my staying.” 

 

“Teach me to draw.” Joe shrugged. “Or paint or whatever. My parents pay you good money to influence me. Just keep doing that.” 

 

Ben was quiet for a moment, a shake of his head coming along slowly. “You don’t want my influence, Joseph.” 

 

“You don’t know what I want,” Joe spoke louder than excepted. He cleared his throat, standing just a bit taller. “If you want to go, then go. But I’ve said my peace. You make up your own mind.” With that, Joe turned on his heel and stalked back to his bedroom. 

 

He barely slept a wink, but eventually, he found the morning light hitting his face, alerting him that the sun was up and it was a new day. When he woke, he found Ben’s room empty. He felt his stomach begin to tighten and a strange rage fill inside his bones. He dressed and hurried out of the house, unsure of where he was even going to go. 

 

Grabbing hold of his bike, he walked about ten feet before he heard his mother calling to him. He turned towards the gazebo to see his mother sitting with a paintbrush in her hand and a smile on her face. She was calling to him, just insisting that he come see what she had created. 

 

Ben was standing off to the side, beaming proudly. “Mr. Hardy suggested I take a few lessons of my own and look!” 

 

The painting was nowhere near perfect but it pleased his mother enough for him to appreciate it. He exchanged a look with Ben but said nothing more. With his bike laying out on the front lawn, he went back into the house, all thoughts of escaping gone from his mind. 

 

It was later that night, while Ben was outside on the porch that Joe took the time to speak with him. “So you’re staying.” He mentioned loud. He didn’t smoke but didn’t mind when others did. 

 

He found it somewhat mesmerizing, the way Ben focused so carefully on the cigarette; his lips so delicate as they wrapped around the stick, sucking in slowly. 

 

“For now,” Ben confessed, his eyes wandering the land rather than looking at his companion. “There is still so much to teach though I am sure your family will grow tired of me eventually.” 

 

“Are you kidding? I don’t think my ma could ever grow tired of you. You’re like her shiny new toy.” 

 

“Even toys rust, Joseph.” He commented, putting the cigarette out. He didn’t smoke often. Only when he was bothered by something. Troubled by lack of inspiration or letters from his family. Joe wondered if that something this time around was him. “I’ll stay until the end of summer and then I’m taking my leave.” 

 

Joe shifted in his seat, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Where will you go?” He questioned. 

 

Ben didn’t answer right away. He continued to look out over the land, taking in the gentle moonlight around them. “Wherever I can find my paradise.” He admitted. 

 

The two men shared a small glance before finally departing with Ben leaving for the house first. Joe stayed outside, feeling more alone than ever. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very happy that a good portion of you are enjoying this clusterfuck of a story. I must warn you though, it gets darker as the fic goes on. If you've read any of my other stories, I try to keep certain topics as vague as possible and I do the same here. This chapter is still a bit more lighthearted but after this, we'll be getting into sadnessville.

The two had found a strange middle ground as they carried on through their days. They continued on with their painting and drawing, with Ben teaching him something new any chance he was given. His sketching was still shit but he had to admit that he was getting better at least a little bit. 

They still went into town every now and then, going to pick up the art supplies by the request of his parents, but it was different now. There was an obvious rift between the two even if Joe tried to ignore it. He tried to make it seem like things hadn’t changed. That Ben hadn’t made the confession to him and hadn’t kissed him by the water's edge. 

That day replayed often in his head, much to his annoyance. He didn’t push him away as he should have, but he also didn’t give in either. He just sat there, taken back and confused. God, how pathetic was he? 

Ben didn’t push the friendship any more than what it had become. He didn’t mention the kiss or give Joe any looks like they once used to share. They were two people existing in the same house, in the same world. Just trying to get by until the end of the summer. 

Joe found himself getting more annoyed with the whole situation, enough to where he almost wished he hadn’t stopped Ben from leaving. His mother would constantly invite her friends over and show him off like he was her prized pooch. Some ladies would bring their daughters over to meet him and they would giggle and blush at his smile and his accent. 

Joe rolled his eyes every time. The same girls who wouldn’t give him a second look would still lose their minds over the handsome European man. He found a strange comfort in knowing that Ben preferred an Adam over an Eve and these women didn’t stand a chance. 

Some of the ladies suggested having him come and teach their daughters a thing or two, but he denied them all, swearing his allegiance to the Mazzello household. His mama was amused by it and his father just laughed aloud, completely unfazed by it all. He was too busy with his work to really care much about what his family was up to when he wasn’t around. So long as nobody was getting hurt or in trouble, then let them play on. 

Still, Joe could deal with that annoyance. He could deal with the stupidity of the people around him and carry on like never really mattered. That was until that man showed up. 

Gwilym fucking Lee. 

He was an old friend of Ben’s, one who was to stay with them for a few days. He was passing through the states, having arrived from England for work. The sight of the tall man making his way across his lawn, dressed to impress in his military dress. Joe had never seen Ben smile so brightly. 

Actually, he had. One night, when the two were alone they had sat together speaking of their ambitions. Ben spoke of returning to his home in England, where he was free to carry his families work. The way he spoke about art was in the purest sense. 

And now here he was, smiling that beautiful smile for a man Joe had never met. The worst part was how utterly kind and friendly Gwilym actually was. His accent was as clean cut as Ben’s, but his manners were unbeatable. He seemed to be the English equivalent a good old southern boy. He had just as much charm as anyone and it made Joe sick. 

Seeing them together, laughing and speaking of old times, it made him want to throw up. He told himself it was due to his own personal issues. It wasn’t natural, seeing Ben squeeze his arm and laugh at his jokes. He was acting like a giddy teenage girl. Like the girls who would flaunt themselves at him in town! He was no different and he wanted him to know that. 

They had a history together and Joe found himself wondering just how friendly the two really were. Joe didn’t know which was more outrageous. The idea of two men laying together or just these two specific men. 

Joe tried not to let it bother him. Tried not to gaze angrily from his window as the two would sit outside, the same way Ben and he had done previously. He went out with his own friends to try and focus on something else but found that they had already begun to move on with their lives. 

Rami was planning on enlisting in the Marines, planning on heading to boot camp. They didn’t talk about it much, but it was expected. He wanted to make his family proud. To fight for the country his family loved so dearly. 

When Joe returned to his home, he found them together again. Sitting and laughing and smiling. Gwilym called out to him, insisting that he join them. They were drinking and laughing about old times. They looked happy together and Joe couldn’t run up the stairs fast enough. 

He tried to avoid the two for as long as he could. Gwilym was only staying four days, but to Joe, it was four days too long. On the night before he was to take off and head north, his mother invited them all to a party at her country club. Joe did what he could to stay home, but it was no use. 

Dressed in his very best, he has forced alongside his parents and the two Brits to the swanky party where people were dancing and having fun. He wore his Sundays best, at his mother's request, though it didn’t matter a lick. With Gwilym wearing his military dress clothes and Ben looking like he just stepped out of a Shakespearian stage play. 

None of the ladies cared. Oh no, they adored it. Gwilym was more than happy to dance with each and every one of the eligible women. He told the other men to do the same, insisting that a lady loved to be swept off her feet and if a man could dance than he was already one step closer. 

A few took his advice while others just scoffed and rolled their eyes at the man. Joe didn’t take it seriously. The man would be gone by tomorrow and just a few weeks later, Ben would be following in suit.

And then everything would go back to normal. 

Eventually, the dancing died down and everyone was relaxing around. People had been coupled off and the older generation was getting ready to leave. Joe didn’t dance with anyone all night, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t like to dance. 

Ben and Gwilym were sitting with a few people, speaking about something that Joe didn’t catch. The subject didn’t matter. What did matter was how close they were sitting, with their arms touching just carefully. To the naked eye it would have meant nothing, but to people in the South, with a harsh glance here and there, it meant a hell of a lot more.

Joe’s feet took him over before he could stop himself and before he even realized he was doing it, he dragged Ben up and away from the situation and out the door. They were alone outside for a long moment, with Joe not saying a single thing. When he finally broke, he knew he sounded like a mad man. 

“You can’t be doing that thing here.” He insisted, leaving the blond looking more confused than before. “The touching, the smiling. What you do in the privacy of your own bedroom is fine but people are different here. They’re cruel and hate-filled.” 

“Gwilym and I haven’t done a single thing, Joseph,” Ben told him, though Joe didn’t believe it. 

“The way you two look at one another. It’s not right.” 

The last thing they needed was for some hot-headed moron to catch the wind and try to attack them for just living their lives. Joe might not agree with his way of life but that didn’t mean he wanted the blond to get hurt. 

It was Ben’s turn to scoff, rolling his eyes at the younger man. Joe continued to speak, explaining the reasons why but Ben refused to hear about it. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re just ignorant or jealous.” 

Joe’s eyes widened at the words, at the accusations. “Jel…I’m trying to protect you!” 

“I don’t need protection!” 

Ben didn’t live in fear. He didn’t worry about what people thought. All he cared about were his paintings and the things he kept in that sketchbook of his. Joe was figuring the urge to throw the damn thing in a bloody fire. 

Joe returned home, without Ben or his parents or anybody else. He went home and just continued on being angry and annoyed with all the things going around him. He thought about how his best friend would be leaving for the marines and he would have nothing but his own loneliness and garbage paintings to keep him company. 

He wasn’t jealous of Gwilym. Or maybe he was. Maybe he was jealous over losing his friendship to someone or maybe it was more. He tossed and turned in his bed, completely unsure of what to do next. He didn’t come downstairs when Gwilym left, instead, he watched from his window, his eyes zeroing on the car that drove the man off the property. 

His parents had plans with friends in town, leaving the two alone. Joe was outside practicing his swinging, trying to focus on anything other than what was running through his mind. He smashed the bat against the grass to let out a bit of steam before throwing the damn thing across the way. 

He stomped his way to Ben’s room, finding him sitting by the window, sketching in his book. Joe fought the urge to yank it from him and tear out each and every one of the pages. Ben stood carefully, sighing as he looked over the younger man. 

He began speaking though Joe didn’t hear a single word of it. He thought about hitting him. About punching his pretty face in until it was no longer pretty. In making his pouty red lips red with blood and making his gorgeous green eyes black and blue. It would have been so easy but instead, he did the hard thing. 

Stepping forward, he placed his hands on Ben’s cheeks, holding his face still as he kissed him. He found the moment his lips were on Ben’s, his mind was silent. All the anger and confusion was gone. He could hear the ocean and smell the sea. He was at peace like this. 

When they pulled away, Ben was staring at him, his eyes wide with bewilderment. Joe was fairly certain the action was the least likely thing ever expected of him. Especially with how he had acted after their last intimate interaction. 

They stood together silently, letting a few silent beats skip between them before the two pulled one another in. Joe found he could drown himself in Ben, letting all the negative thoughts fade away as their kissing continued. 

They didn’t do more than that, not right away at least. They spent the afternoon wrapped up in one another, more kissing than speaking. When he heard the family car up the drive, Joe practically rolled out of the bed, rushing to the window to see his parents returning. Ben sat up, unfazed by their return and grabbed his sketchbook to continue on with whatever he was drawing. 

“Don’t worry,” Ben muttered out. He wasn’t looking at Joe or even out the window. He was just sitting there, looking at his book with his hand moving to shade his latest creation. “You don’t owe me anything. Everybody gets curious every now and then.” 

Joe wanted to ask what he was talking about but the sound of his mother’s voice cut him off. He left Ben in his room, going off to his mother. It took him a long while before realizing the blond was attempting to give him an out. To make it less awkward and less pathetic for both their sakes. 

Joe thought that was better. Maybe all he needed was a bit of stress relief? Baseball didn’t do it, nor did destroy the grass with the bat. He didn’t know much about sex but there were enough guys who enjoyed it. Maybe that was all he needed. Find someone pretty and sleep with them in order to shake the nerves that had been building up over time.

He spent the entire day telling himself that. Every glance he shared with Ben, it was nothing more than a way out. He was curious. He was a lonely virgin with no future, fresh out of school who couldn’t paint and just wanted to enjoy himself a little bit. 

So when he made his way back to Ben’s room, that was exactly what he told himself. So when they laid together and kissed tenderly, he continued to tell himself that was all it was. Fun. Fun, fun, fun. 

And when the voice in his head told him that he was lying, he just ignored it and let the blond lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Once again I apologize for bringing poor innocent Gwil into the mixture. 
> 
> Please comment down below and tell me what you thought! Honestly, reading what people are saying makes me smile even when it's the hardest. 
> 
> Check out the Pacific and Woman in White if possible. 
> 
> And also check out The Haphazard of Ben by aplacetoland if you haven't already. That story is my life and I legit had my friend sleepover and told her she couldn't talk to me until I finished the chapter because I am so invested into it.
> 
> Also also! Follow me on Tumblr (WriteYourOwnLifeStory) or Twitter (AlonaDanger) talk to me cause I love that shit.
> 
> HOLY SHIT THE OSCARS ARE TONIGHT OH MY GOD THIS JUST GOT READ!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is where the Pacific really comes to shine. Remember, I try to keep everything vague, but there are depictions of war and death and homophobia. There will be one more chapter after this and then to my surprise, I did write another one to share. It's not very good, but I wrote it none the less. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Also, there is a small moment with Ben and Joe in the attic and the song that goes with that is The Promise by Sturgill Simpson

Joe found that he and Ben were once again slipping into a comfortable rhythm with one another. They were painting and drawing and reading great American novels and even some English ones that Ben had persuaded him to read.

It was like how it was when he had first arrived and the budding friendship was back on. They went almost everywhere together, spending their time speaking of this or that. The only difference now was what they did behind closed doors.

Joe refused to put a name onto it. They weren’t courting one another or going out on dates. He wasn’t about to hand over his senior pin to the man nor was he willing to accept anything of the sort of Ben. When they would go out for a night on the town, they didn’t sit close or hold hands.

Shit, with Joe being as frantic as he was, he was surprised he even bothered going out anymore. Ben wanted to enjoy his last few weeks in the town and who was Joe to deny him? They spent their time wisely, putting up a good show for all those around them. Ben was still his tutor, still spoke curtly to him around his parents and house guest.

They were friends, but a professional relationship was still to be kept, at least to the public eye. Once they were alone however, the facade was gone and the two would be as close as men could be. Joe found that kissing had quickly become one of his favorite activities. He used to watch Rami and Lucy kiss in the corner, back when he was the third wheel and he would choke back his own self indulged agony at the thought of being alone forever.

Yet there he was, laying in bed with an angel of a man, clothing gone and their lips smacked together as they swallowed one another moans.

They didn’t have sex right away. Ben didn’t push for it and Joe knew why. It took him long enough just to kiss him, getting intercourse involved would surely scare the young man off. They went slowly. Each day learning something new about one another.

He found that Ben’s hands were good for more than just holding a paintbrush and that his pretty lips looked nicely wrapped around something other than a cigarette.

When they finally did cross that bridge, it wasn’t as horrendous as Joe had feared. He was nervous as all hell but Ben was sweet and encouraging. He wasn’t a virgin like Joe and talked him through it. When it was over and they were cleaned up, they laid together talking.

Ben spoke about his past lovers and what they had taught him. He never saw himself as a hopeless romantic. He knew they would never work out and was happy for what they had taught him along the way.

“Especially the first one. Dominque. She taught him how much I truly loved men,” He had teased.

Joe knew how cliche it was to want to fall in love with your best friend or marry your first love. His parents had their own semi-romantic love story, but he never allowed himself to get lost in it. Life was too short to hold onto such fantasies.

Still. Being there with Ben didn’t make the idea nearly half as terrible as he thought it would be.

They would do this often, almost daily. Lock themselves in one of the others room and have sex. It wasn’t dirty enough to be called fucking. Not really. Every now and then they would get a bit heavy handed but it never got too rough. And Joe sure as hell wasn’t about to call it ‘making love’ so sex would have to work for the time being.

Every now and then the two would find themselves feeling a bit adventurous. Sometimes they would sneak around the house like in the library or sitting room. They would hold hands under the table or kiss in the back yard. They had sex in the gazebo one night when the moon was bright and the wind was warm.

When they would go in public, the girls would giggle but Ben never had eyes for them. And some pricks would mock the way Ben held himself and call him a fag. He never gave a reaction, not until Joe did.

It happened one too many times and finally, Joe just snapped, attacking the bastard right there on the street. A small brawl broke out and while nobody got arrested Joe’s parents found themselves both proud and furious with their son. Sticking up for someone who was practically family at this point was courageous but violence never solved anything.

His punishment was that he couldn’t visit his grandparents the following week, meaning he and Ben would have the entire home to themselves. No watchful parents or nosey gardeners. Just the two of them.

It was near perfect.

Joe didn’t know if this was what it was supposed to feel like. The utter ease that came from just being together. When they were alone there was no pretending. Joe didn’t have to put on a mask and act like his life wasn't as mundane as it was. When he was with Ben, his life was full of color. He looked forward to each day and found that the little things were beginning to matter more and more.

His art was still terrible but it was getting better. Ben had dragged him down to the beach and placed his hands over his eyes. It was a dangerous move, but no one was around but them. He told him to close his eyes and listen to the water. He could almost hear the colors around him. In the sea, in the wind. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

They laid together there, on the beach as the sun began to set. Joe’s head rested carefully on Ben’s lap as he read aloud lines of poetry. Ben’s fingers caressed his hair gently, causing full relaxation to come through. Joe had never felt so at peace.

As Joe would read from the text Ben would mirror his words, knowing them by heart. It made Joe smile as he tilted his head up to look at him. As the blond bent forward, Joe held his head as he kissed him. It was one of the easiest things in the world; just being with him. Happy and content.

But even then Joe knew it couldn’t last. Ben was set to leave by the end of summer and Joe had no intentions of following, even when the blond spoke so strongly about his homeland.

He made England sound like a dream world. He spoke of the London City streets and all the wonderful things they held. About his home estate that sounded more like a palace than a home. He mentioned how they had their own swimming area, a private place where they could just exist in harmony.

“If you had all that why the hell would you leave it to come here?”

Ben had laughed at the question and answered it simply. “It was a job. Teaching art is my passion. In the end, I just followed what I loved.”

Ben had other job opportunities when the summer was over. He’d go all around the world, teaching at schools and becoming somebody else’s tutor. Joe didn’t like to think about Ben being alone with another student. Being alone with another man whose mind he could mold into a perfect work of art.

Joe knew it was wrong. Not because it was a sin to think of Ben the way he did but because Ben did not belong to him. He was free to do what he pleased and be with whoever he wanted. Jealousy wasn’t going to get Joe anywhere so he kept those thoughts to himself.

When his parents had returned and their endless amounts of privacy were over Joe took Ben into town for some get together that Rami had mentioned. It was more of a going away party for those who were leaving for the military. Joe hadn’t realized how many in their town had enlisted.

The two sat together while Ben spun Lucy on the dance floor. Ben was a good dancer, having had lessons since he was a child. It was just another thing the man was good at.

“Lucy is mad I won’t marry her,” Rami mentioned quietly, yet suddenly.

“You won’t?” It was news to Joe, who had been waiting for Rami to pop the question ever since Lucy agreed to start seeing him. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m shipping out in a few days. She may be happy with a quick ceremony but she deserves better,” Rami sucked slowly on his cigarette, watching as his lady love smiled and laughed at something Ben had said. “Besides, the chances of me returning could be slim. I don’t want to leave her a widow.”

“You ain’t gonna die Rami,” Joe told him as he could see into the future.

The truth was none of those guys heading out knew what their fate was. In such a small town nobody expected anything good from war but there were heroes who had returned like nothing really even happened.

When they returned home that night, Joe set up the radio in the attic. It was dusty and the only light they had came from the moon shining through the window. It was small and private. Joe didn’t like to dance but Ben did. And Joe wanted to give it a try. With his parents sleeping just one level below them the two dances slowly to the gentle music.

Joe didn’t know which one of them was supposed to lead but it didn’t matter. They just stayed in each other’s arms, accepting the warmth that the other offered.

They had sex in the attic. On top of the old cot that Joe used to use whenever he would camp outside in a makeshift tent. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and Joe decided to up the ante by letting Ben take the lead this time around.

Having a man be inside you was both everything and nothing like Joe had expected. It was painful and wonderful and so fucking intense. In the end, Joe realized that he had officially given Ben everything to offer, from his body to his heart. And as the days slowly began to dwindle he came to the realization that he wasn’t going to be able to let this go.

He thought he could and he swore he would but how could he? When holding Ben made him feel so real and how kissing him silenced all the harsh sounds in his mind. Even when they weren’t intimate just being by Ben’s side was enough to make him feel good.

How the hell could something deemed wrong make Joe feel like he could take on the entire world? It was a man right clusterfuck and he partly wished they never even started. Starting meant they’d eventually have to stop and that was enough for Joe to want to hide away forever.

They didn’t talk about it. They talked about lots of things but never the one thing that needed to be spoken of. Ben had tried every now and then but Joe would always deflect. He would kiss the words away if he had to. Anything to keep Ben from making this more real than it was. If he tried hard enough Joe could pretend this was all a dream. That when Ben would leave that this was nothing more than just a strange fever dream.

It was the only way for Joe to survive after this. The only way for him to be able to go back to his old life and maybe even forget about all the things they had done together.

He knew Ben knew this. He could sense it in Joe’s resistance. He would smell the underlining fear that lingered every single time they were together. Joe didn’t want to be afraid but how could he not be? They were living in a fantasy world. The things they did in the dark could never be done in the real world.

Not without risk of having their brains bashed in.

How Ben could live his life day by day without a worry, without fear. It didn’t seem normal. It was more natural than anything. Being completely okay with who he was, even the flaws. And Ben only had one flaw, but it was a big one. One that could ruin everything.

Joe didn’t like to talk about it. Talk about the thoughts of failure. He had nothing to show off his life and here he was, throwing himself into bed with another man. Could he get any more pathetic?

It happened one night while Ben was packing. The break down between the two. Joe had been somewhat more standoffish as of late, maybe because he knew it was finally happening. Ben would be gone and then he’d go back to how he was before. Boring and bland and straight. Ben asked if they would write and Joe told him yeah. Yeah, of course, they would write. Letters of friendship that would go back and forth for as long as they could.

Ben didn’t believe him. He scoffed and Joe could see he called his bluff. It infuriated Joe because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. They weren’t supposed to get close and he wasn’t supposed to feel this way for another man. They were just supposed to paint and that’s it. Joe was supposed to learn to be more world rounded and now here he was fighting the urge to just forget it all and forget himself and run off with another man.

It wasn’t okay and Ben had to understand that. He had to understand that Joe wasn’t like him and that being together wasn’t an option. He felt angry and upset and couldn’t stop himself from crying as he shouted at the other man. He didn’t stop crying even after Ben pulled him in. He tried fighting him. He wanted to hit him. To break away from his touch and destroy what was growing between them. To stomp it out before it could go any further.

But it was too late. Joe was in too deep. Ben had infected him like a virus in the night. Taken over his body and soul and he knew there was no way of letting go no matter how hard he tried or how hard he prayed.

When Ben left Joe thought it would be all right. He thought the temptation would be gone and things would go back to normal. But instead, he was left feeling tired and empty. He sat in the gazebo, staring out into the distance as Ben made his way back to England. He had his whole life to live and so did Joe.

The only issue was Joe didn’t. He didn’t have a life. He just continued to exist and watch as the world went on around him. His mother pestered him to get a job or go to school but he couldn’t. He felt nothing for anything.

His goodbye with Ben was nothing more than a tight embrace and a silent promise to remember. Their relationship had been their own private paradise that was now over. The two Adams was kicked out of Eden and they had to move on with their lives.

Joe tried. He honestly did. He began working in his father’s office and went out with friends that were still around. When his eighteenth birthday came around Joe realized that he was an adult now. He was a man who could make his own choices.

He saw Lucy in town and spoke about Rami and the other guys who had enlisted and Joe realized that unlike those fellas he didn’t have anybody to come home to other than his parents. No job. No girl. Ben was gone and Joe was empty just as before.

So he joined the Marines.

It was a noble decision and while his parents tried to convince him otherwise he made his choice. He was a sinner in the greatest sense so why not make it up to the Lord by fighting the good fight in his countries war?

He passed his physical and got accepted into the boot camp. He learned all he could and found that he didn’t hate everything they taught him. He was a decent shot and could answer questions on the fly.

He was seen as a good old fashioned American boy and when his parents threw him a goodbye party he had more women dancing with him than ever before. If all it took was signing up for the fucking marines to get a girl to notice him he would have done it long ago.

A letter from Ben had arrived just days before he was supposed to leave and he thought about keeping it unopened. He went against his better judgment and read it. Ben was glad to be home but he would be lying if he said he did not miss the states and the people he had met during his stay.

He didn’t allude to anything inappropriate. He kept it plain and simple but Joe could read through the lines. Ben missed him and he kissed Ben. The blond man eagerly awaited his reply and Joe thought about not giving him one.

Of just leaving the letter behind and pretending like he never even got it.

Once again he went against his judgment and sent out a letter of his own. He told him of his choice and how he may not write to him again for a good while. He told Ben not to worry, that he would be fine. He’d be seeing the world just as Ben was; he’d just be saving during that time.

He sent the letter the same day he left. He thought that would be the end of it but alas. Weeks into being on location he received two letters. One from his parents and one from Ben. He guessed his parents had received it and sent it along, wanting Joe to have something to read and look forward to. With each letter, he would tell himself that he wouldn’t reply. That he would forget all about Ben and focus on the task at hand but he couldn’t. He was at war now and deep down Joe wanted nothing to hold onto.

So he kept writing. He would send letters and poems. He would never call Ben by his name. Not in case, someone would see. He called him B. And soon enough Ben caught on and would sign his letters with B instead of Ben. He was thankful for that even if he knew Ben was probably rolling his eyes and scowling at the task.

War was everything and nothing like Joe had expected. It was dark and lonely yet the men were laughing and carrying on heinous acts like it was what they were there to do. It was what they were there to do. To kill people in the name of their country. To fight for their freedom and the freedom of others.

He made new friends and met up with old ones. Rami was baffled to see him but happy to have him there regardless. They did it together. The killing and moving and surviving. He would speak of Lucy like she was a woman in his dreams while Joe would just sit and grip onto his canteen. Another marine named Allen spoke of his own loved one and asked Joe about his own life.

Joe didn’t say a word. There was talk, about how some of the men would do terrible things due to loneliness and desperation. After all, what happened behind enemy lines stayed behind enemy lines.

He would continue to write Ben. Each time he got a letter he would reply. That was his own personal promise. The day Ben stopped writing him would be when it all came to an end. Sometimes he’d pray for it. Pray that Ben would move on and forget about him. Pray that he would confess that he found another and that they would be ending their ongoing communication.

And yet he also prayed that it would never stop. Each letter that came was something for Joe to hold onto. Something to keep his head on right. Other guys taunted him. They didn't love letters but they felt like they were. Ben spoke so gently and wished him nothing but the best. Other guys received pictures of their girls. Some from magazines of naked ladies or pictures their wives had snuck in.

All Joe had were words but it was enough for him. He didn’t get into too much detail. It wasn’t worth it. While Ben was off living his life freely, Joe was watching the world crumble around him. When you’re home, they make going to war sound so heroic, so passionate. You’d go and stand your ground and come home feeling prouder than ever.

Nobody saw the real pain. Nobody saw the true devastation. Nobody knew what it was like to see the life leave a man’s eyes. Both literal and figuratively. Death wasn’t something you could avoid at war. You were taught to shoot and taught to kill. That was what they were there for. To kill in the name of the United States.

They had come across so many bodies in their travels. Some of their own men, some of the enemy. Before, they would whisper a chosen word sent from the Lord for the men who had fallen. Eventually, it got to the point that even a passing prayer wasn’t worth it anymore. How many times could a person speak to God before they finally realized He wasn’t listening?

Death was something to be expected, not something to fear. If you died a soldier on the battleground, you died a hero. And if you returned, then you were a hero just as well.

But nobody spoke about the men who returned home more dead than alive. Who had themselves broken off, piece by piece until they were nothing more than shattered ruins. Joe saw it happening more often than not. Saw the friends he had made either die or get hurt or slowly lose themselves.

Joe felt himself slowly begin to slip as well and found the only thing that held him together were the letters from Ben. He began hiding them, not because he feared what the others would do when they found out, but rather what he’d do if he had lost them. In the dark of the night, he would read them over and over again. He’d imagine Ben speaking slowly, reading the words aloud.

Ben’s voice had always been so sweet, so calming. With an accent like his, he could read the phone book and Joe would still be head over heels for it.

He did fight it. Fight the longing and the need. When they stopped on location, he found himself a girl and went all the way with her. He thought maybe that was all he needed. Some attention and affection. Someone to care about him for once. He got it up, but it was not for her sake. Behind his closed lids he just kept imagining the blond painter that made his heart twirl.

When it was over, he felt sick and bit his lip to keep from crying out. He walked through the streets and saw a couple of his fellow Marines out and about. They were obviously drunk and looking for some girls of their own. These men weren’t afraid to buy love if they needed it. So many of them were touch starved they’d settle for anything.

Anything else another man.

There had been one local that got on some of the guy's nerves. He was open and careless and when he tried to give the marines a good time, he got his ass handed to him. It brought out a fear that Joe had worked so hard to suppress deep down inside.

It was one of the darker things he had mentioned in his letters. He didn’t talk much about death or how he had killed people in cold blood. This he had mentioned; how he watched the same men he shared his canteen with beat the man to a bloody pulp and then carried on like it was nothing.

He thought of all the times Ben had been mocked in town, how he would have nightmares about the same thing happening to him. It was one of the many reasons he pushed away his feelings, pushed away Ben. The world was not forgiving and God was not listening.

The war was going on and nobody cared if you lived or died. Liberty was to be won. That was all that mattered.

Rami fought beside him endlessly. He spoke of returning home and marrying Lucy. Of starting a family. He would poke and prod, try to get Joe to say what he wanted when he returned home, but Joe never gave him an answer. He never asked who B was, but deep down Joe felt he knew.

Deep down he felt like Rami knew exactly what it was he really wanted but just never said anything. Maybe he did it for Joe’s sake. To keep the secret for him. He didn’t know.

He continued to write. Kept the letters close and protected them for as long as was humanly possible. Joe held strong until the day he lost the letters. It was cold and wet and the men were slowly losing their minds. Allen was dead and Rami was sick. They didn’t know if anybody else was going to make it out of there. Joe didn’t know how it happened. One second he was on top, keeping watch and the next he was sliding down in the mud, hitting his head on something hard. He didn’t have a helmet on. He had no protection.

When he woke, he was being dragged away; the letters Ben wrote to him sunk deeply into the mud and were left behind. It was the only time Joe broke down. The only time he tried to fight his own band of brothers. When the morning came, Rami was carried away and Joe was more alone than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT RAMI WON OH MY GOD I THINK I BROKE MY VOCAL CHORDS CAUSE I SCREAMED SO MUCH!!!!
> 
> Right, okay. Back to the story. What did you think? Please leave me your deepest thoughts, I honestly love writing them so much. 
> 
> Once again, the song that Ben and Joe danced to in the attic was The Promise by Sturgill Simpson. It's a beautiful cover and I beg of you to listen to it.
> 
> Also, sorry I killed Allen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end. There are so many things I want to say, but to be honest I am pretty speechless. This story is my child and now it's fully grown. I know that's silly, but I love it all the same. 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy.

 

**_Don't you hear my call though you're many years away_ **  
**_Don't you hear me calling you_ **  
**_Write your letters in the sand_ **  
**_For the day I take your hand_ **  
**_In the land that our grandchildren knew_ **

 

Joe was certain he would die there. In the dirt, with nobody but his parents to give a damn. Instead, he found himself being sent home when the war was officially over. He never dreamed of a day when it would actually be over. Then again, for some, it never would be. 

 

Some men didn’t know what to do when it was over. For so many of them, the war was all they had. No job, no wife, no life to return to. What was life without killing now that they had done it so often? Soon enough they’d all be forced to find out. 

 

It had been over for Rami before himself. When he was sent home, Rami was the one who came to get him. He was in full health again. He was smiling and in regular clothing. Joe stood tall in his uniform but felt small next to his friend. He was smiling and happy, more than happy to have his best friend home. 

 

He had finally popped the question and planned on marrying Lucy in the fall. Joe would be the best man, which he was happy about. 

 

Joe continued to tell himself that he was happy. Happy to be home. Happy to be alive. He hugged his parents and embraced the welcome home party they had thrown for him. He smiled when the girls would talk to him, each of which was flirting and giving him eyes in his uniform. 

 

He excused himself from the table and went to the bathroom. He filled the tub up with water and took off his jacket, and then his shirt. Dipping his head into the water, he released a gut-wrenching scream; one he had been holding in for far too long. He continued to scream and scream until he knew a knock on the door. He played it off like it was nothing; dressing and drying his head with a towel before heading back down. 

 

He did that for a while. Continued to scream in the water and cry into his pillow. He had more nightmares that kept him awake, kept him from sleeping properly. He spent more nights awake, sitting outside under the moon with a cigarette in his mouth. He got used to smoking while in the marines. Smoking and drinking and killing were some of the things that he had gotten used. Things he had gotten good at. 

 

His mother had suggested he saw a doctor, but he refused. A doctor wasn’t going to take away the pain. Wasn’t going to take away the dark memories that lingered in his mind. He was all right from the neck down and that's all that mattered. 

 

His father didn’t rush him to get a job. He dealt with soldiers before, helped them deal with battle scars that didn’t heal straight away. Some scars never healed. It’s what his father told him when they were alone. When Joe finally allowed himself to break down in front of someone.

 

He hadn’t been held by someone since he was a child, but he stayed in his father’s arms for a long while, allowing the embrace. He told his mother he didn’t plan on doing anything for a long while and despite being an obvious disappointment, Joe didn’t care. 

 

He watched the rest of the world go on around him. Rami and Lucy got married and went on their honeymoon. He danced with her friends and stood by his side, but he was miserable the whole time. The only thing stopping him from downing an entire bottle of vodka was seeing a face he never thought he’d see again.

 

As luck would have it, the Boynton's had family in England and the beautiful blonde’s cousin just so happened to be none other than Gwilym Lee. He never thought he’d see the man again but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t against it. 

 

They sat together talking and slowly Joe opened up about what he had seen. He just didn’t understand how Rami could be so relaxed, so unaffected the way he was. Joe knew life wasn’t fair, but this was just cruel. 

 

Gwilym was quiet when he admitted to the things he had seen and the things he had done. He spoke about how sometimes surviving was worse than dying because it meant you had to just keep on going. The only advice that he could give was for Joe to find something worth living for. No matter how impossible it seemed. 

 

Eventually, the conversation turned to the topic of Ben. Joe just shook his head. He had no way of reaching the man after he lost his letters so it had been months since they last spoke. Joe didn’t even know if Ben knew he was still alive and he didn’t ask Gwilym to tell him. 

 

It was better this way. Joe . . . he wasn’t the same person was before. Pieces of him were gone and his spirit was shattered. There was nothing left of him now. Nothing to even offer the man. 

 

Except little did he know that Gwilym was something of a gossiper. Not before long, a letter had arrived addressed to Joe. He stared at it for a long while, thinking of throwing it away. It would have been better if he did. He could go on and pretend like it never happened. 

 

But curiosity got the better of him and eventually, he ripped the envelope open and pulled the letter out. It was several pages long. Joe felt like Ben had sent him a fucking manuscript rather than a letter. 

 

He read each word, again and again, trying to grasp everything that Ben had poured into it. How happy he was that Joe had survived the war and how there was no denying that the man had come back changed. He spoke of all the times he would see Gwilym return and how he would pretend like a piece of himself hadn’t been chipped away.

 

The blond didn’t know how Gwilym did it. How he continued to go and move up rank while keeping a smile on his face. Some people were born for it. Others just playing pretend. 

 

He spoke of what he had been up to since their last exchange. He traveled all over Europe, showing off his new pieces. It seemed he had given up on tutoring and focused more on his professional work. Ben had a future, a life that he was happy to be living while Joe was stuck in an endless melancholy. 

 

He talked about the things they had done and how Ben thought of them often. He wondered if Joe had found his own personal happiness in one way or another or if he still thought of Ben often in more than just memories. 

 

He offered small words of advice on how to survive. While Joe was never one for painting, the trials they would go through prior before starting up a new projected always relaxed them both. Laying in the bed of roses or walking along the tall grass meadows was a wonderful way to let your thoughts drain out.

 

Ben would speak so lovingly to him. Mentioning how one could sit by the ocean side and listen to the colors in the wind. 

 

Joe had tried it once before. After storming the beaches, the marines were given a small moment to use sit and exist without gunfire or explosions. Joe sat in the sand and closed his eyes, trying to listen for the colors. He heard nothing. That was all over now. 

 

It hurt Joe more and more with each passing word. How much this man cared for him. How it went against everything Joe has never known. 

 

The letters he had lost on the battlefield were apart of him yet there were new ones coming to him. Speaking so strongly of wanting to be together, for once and for all. No fear or judgment or hate. Ben wanted him, like this. Broken and bruised, but still alive. 

 

When Joe didn’t write back, another letter arrived. It was shorter but filled with more emotion than the other. Ben wanted to visit. To come back to America and see Joe for himself, but not without permission. He spoke of their time together with such devotion and swore that if Joe still wanted him, then he would be his without question. 

 

How a man could be so welcoming despite the brunet pushing him away time and time again was baffling. Perhaps despite being good at his art, Ben was just plain stupid. And Joe was even worse off for even thinking about it. 

 

Maybe things were different in Europe but nothing changed over here, not even after the world. People were still hateful, still fearful of God. Joe had seen so much death and distraction and took the lives of men who were doing the same thing he was doing, fighting for their country. 

 

He could give so much of himself and yet the truest part of him was to be snuffed out because it didn’t fit into societies way of living. He knew men who had returned home but their minds were still on the battlefields. Some of those men had chosen to end their lives, choosing to sin one final time. 

 

Joe thought that if he was to go against God, shouldn’t it be for a reason that benefitted him in one way or another? 

 

But not like this. Not when he was still so shattered, not when he had nothing to offer the man. A third letter came, and this time Ben was short and sweet. He would come whenever Joe called to him, but it was Joe’s choice. He would content wait by the water for the day to come.

 

If it ever did. 

 

Cleaning up his room one day, he found the old poems he used to write to impress his former tutor. He thought nothing of them until his mother stumbled upon them and as a surprise, submitted them to the town paper. 

 

Joe was furious at first as they were personal to the man. He wanted each copy to be burnt in their fireplace until they caught sight of someone of importance. Joe never took writing seriously until the possibility of making money off it came along.

 

It was small stuff. Poems here and there. People liked reading sweet words from a broken man. It made him more relatable. It gave him the chance to go to New York and even a possible publishing deal. The writing was second nature for him. He allowed his heart to speak instead of his head and found the voice inside him that had been muffled for so, so long. 

 

He found all the pieces he had written for Ben so long ago, buried deep inside the chest that he kept locked away in his bedroom. He felt strange, sharing them with the world when they had originally been for only one pair of eyes. He took a few pieces he preferred the most and placed them in the collection with a few of his newer pages. 

 

When he did get published, he dedicated the book to his inspiration, to the thing that kept him going. To his B. 

 

They had thrown a party for him at his home. Everybody in town arrived and for the first time since he returned from the war, Joe finally felt something other than disdain and loathing. People cheered him on not for fighting for their country but for turning his darkness into something light. 

 

He sat with Rami who was holding his first born child. They spoke about where the years have taken them. He was happy to see the shimmer back in his best friends eyes, but there was something missing. Something that Joe had been denying himself for the longest time. 

 

“After all the hell we’ve been through fighting to save the world, I think we deserve our own bit of happiness, don’t you think?” He had asked him as the baby slept peacefully in his arms. “I got mine. When the hell are you going to get yours?” 

 

Joe had thought long and hard about those words, knowing he had to make a choice. Only when he was cleaning out the attic as a favor to his mother did he get a start. 

 

The sketchbook was lying under the cot, collecting dust after all these years. Joe had never touched it before, as it had always been under lock and key in Ben’s possessions. Opening it up, he found countless drawings of beautiful things. Of trees and animals and people. 

 

And himself. So many pictures of himself. Some that looked staged, the ones he had sat for back when Ben asked him so sweetly, while others were out of place. From memory or when Joe didn’t realize he was being watched. 

 

Inside the binding was Ben’s name and to his surprise, his address. Joe didn’t know what got to him. Maybe it was all the words our encouragement people had been telling him over time. Maybe it was him realizing it was a fine time for him to have his own happy ending. 

 

Kissing his mom goodbye and telling his dad he would call, Joe took the sketchbook and left his home for something bigger and better.

 

He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at the Hardy Estate. Gone was the young teenager who was bashful and full of emotions and here stood a young man who no longer lived with the fear of God lingering over him. 

 

When he knocked, he expected to see a family. Ben’s family. He thought the man would move on without him, would reject him and tell him to leave. Instead, he was told by a staff member that the man was down by the water, working on his latest piece of work. 

 

Joe found him there. Sitting in the sand, watching the ocean. He moved carefully, trying to think of what to say.

 

He was just feet away from him when a small voice in his head told him to turn back. That this was strong. That it was unnatural for two men to be in love. Joe told that voice to go fuck itself. That he had been to hell and back and that if God wanted to create war and give a man the power to kill another, then he also gave him the power to love another. 

 

There was a time when Joe thought Ben might love him. He couldn’t help but wonder if he truly loved him still. 

 

Moving slowly, Joe sat beside the blond man in the sand, taking in his profile. He got older, and his hair grew longer but he was just as lovely as when they said their goodbyes. 

 

“You’re here,” Ben muttered, his voice tight in his throat. And he had tears in his eyes. 

 

“Do you still hear the colors, Mr. Hardy?” Joe asked him quietly. 

 

He didn’t wait for him to answer. Instead, he moved forward, pressing his lips to Ben’s. It was the first kiss he had since the day they parted and it was the one thing he was clinging onto since he returned home. 

 

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” Ben demanded, his hands gripping at his clothing. They were holding onto one another like there was no tomorrow. And maybe there wouldn’t be. Maybe for them, they would only have tonight, but it was enough. 

 

Ben had opened his heart in more ways than one man could ever imagine and Joe was here, ready to give Ben his heart back in return. Open and free, willingly at last.

 

“I took your advice. I followed what I loved.” He confessed, not wasting another breath before pulling him in for another loving kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? You know how much I love hearing your thoughts. 
> 
> I do have something else coming up for you but be warned, it isn't anywhere as good as this story. Just a little something that I had been thinking of and threw together. Hopefully, you'll like it. 
> 
> Until next time.


	5. ‘93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story never truly ends when it can be told through another mans eyes.

**_Don't you hear my call though you're many years away_ **  
**_Don't you hear me calling you_ **  
**_All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand_ **

**_For my life_ **  
**_Still ahead_ **  
**_Pity me_ **

 

 

Ben had been painting since he was a child. It’s always been his true passion. He started off as a small lad, making silly, pointless finger paints. Making lovely pictures for his mother to hang up in the window. As he got older, he found that he had a certain niche for it. He could draw from memory and make the most realistic sketches. He could take a paintbrush and create the most vivid horizons.

 

Ben had never expected to turn it into a career. He went to school for it, learning what he could from the great masters in his area. London was full of artist, but Ben knew he was better than most. He had an eye for art. He could make something out of nothing and knew that this truly was his calling.

 

He began painting by request. For all the wealthy folk in the area who wanted their own portrait hanging by the fireplace. Sometimes he would paint other things and sell them from time to time before he finally landed his own gallery. He expected only a handful of people to arrive, but he found that his name was passed around most often than not.

 

People liked his work and he found himself going around England, hosting art events where people knew his name and bought his work. He made good money from his art and he never longed for more.

 

If someone wanted him to create something that he did not want to create, he would rather tell them no than force himself to put in the effort. It was his true privilege there. He knew about the artist that were starving in the street, accepting any job they could in order to put food on the table.

 

He came from a very well off family and while some may believe he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Ben knew how hard he worked. Some people were not born with the talent he was. One would not question a doctor or lawyer, so why question the artist?

 

His mother had always been proud of his work. Never did she try to shove him in a different direction, to pick a proper profession. His happiness always came first, even if it meant he would be taking jobs that brought him far, far away.

 

He didn’t accept at first. He was more or less content working in London, but as his name grew more and more, he found lots of people wanting to take him in so he could teach them the ways of the arts. He wasn’t interested in the Lord and Ladies in his own country, but rather those coming from America.

 

He received a letter from a woman hoping he’d be willing to come across the sea and teach her son a thing or two and was willing to pay a heavy sum if he agreed. Ben had never been to America before, though he heard many things about it. It was a strange place to be, especially down South where the request had come from. He nearly said no but found himself intrigued by the idea of teaching someone how to paint.

 

He always believed that art was something that could be taught, but raw talent had to come from the inside. Whether or not the young lad could handle it was all up to him. He accepted the the offer and before he knew it, he was off to America.

 

The Italian-American family was warm and welcoming. The father was a doctor and put all his time and attention into his work. The mother was mostly a housewife. She was sweet and kind, with big hats that reminded him of his mother’s own collection. When he met the son he found that he wasn’t the little boy that he had envisioned, but rather a young man.

 

A handsome young man at that. Joseph was the type of man who did not believe himself to be worthy of anything. Of affection or attention or anything of the sort. He was young, fresh out of school with no idea of what he wanted to do with his life.

 

That was why Ben was there in the first place. To open the young man’s mind to a new world of possibilities. Ben took on the challenge without a worry. He taught him all about the world of art. He ignored the rolling eyes and sarcastic comments. He knew what to expect when he was to come to America.

 

The American people didn’t always appreciate beautiful things. Whether it be art or people. Ben did what he could to teach the young man what he could and while it had a bit of a rough start, they found their way around one another.

 

Joe was a decent person and he was easy to get along with after a bit of warming up. The man was obsessed with baseball and books. The latter being something he didn’t speak of often. It seemed he was shy about it. About reading such beautiful poetry and the work that inspired him to write pieces of his own.

 

It was the writing that sparked something in Ben. Possibly even something between the two of them. Joe could write such beautiful poems and soliloquies. He had a way with words that could only be captured on paper and Ben wanted him to have a grasp on that. He would bring him countless papers, words that haunted him in the darkness of the night that he only shared with his tutor.

 

It made Ben feel a sense of pride, knowing that they had something to share. A secret of sorts.

 

Ben had another secret that wasn’t really a secret, but Joe was not ready to face that as of yet. He never made it obvious, but he was sure the young man could see the way Ben would look at him. Joe was a gorgeous creature and any person would be a fool to not appreciate that.

 

Joe had confessed to him that most of the young ladies in town never gave him a second look. They were more into the so called ‘greaser’ types or the soldiers that were coming and going. Ben thought they were foolish for passing in Joe. Who could resist such a lovely man?

 

He never made a move on him. How could he? He was the son of his employer. It wouldn’t be right. But he enjoyed a look every now and then. Joe had taken him down to the beach once and the two stripped of their clothing and ran into the water. Ben couldn’t think of a better place to be. It was his own version of heaven.

 

Sometimes when they would sit together outside, reading or smoking or listening to the gentle music in the moonlight, Ben would think that Joe was looking at him in a way that was more than just friendship. It was only ever for a moment, a sliver of a second.

 

The people in town could sense it better than the Mazzello family. Ben was used to the taunts, to the cruel words. He had never outwardly said the word, but that didn’t matter here. In England, he had more privacy. He could do what he wanted on his estate without anybody giving a damn.

 

Here, he couldn’t go to an art supply store without someone throwing a stone against his back and cursing him out. They’d say horrible names and horrible things, but Ben never allowed it to bother him.

 

He knew who he was and what he was doing. He never flirted with any man in America. He wasn’t there for that. He was there to work and he focused on his work. He would smile and be polite to the ladies that would come to visit the Mazzello household. He knew very well that they had high hopes of him asking one of them out, but he never did.

 

He would watch Joe from afar. See how he would roll his eyes at the ladies and their smiles and giggles. He isn’t jealous. Not in the least. But he did feel something. Ben had tried to get him to show it. To be open about what he felt and what he wanted.

 

Joe sucker punched him for it, but Ben didn’t care. He was laughing as the younger man straddled his waist and pinned into the ground. He wanted Joe to feel something. Anything other than the ridiculous melancholy that he so clearly accepted. And if rolling around in the dirt was the thing that would wake up those emotions, then so be it.

 

Joe’s mother made it very clear that such actions would not be accepted, however. And while it pained Ben to walk away, he had to be noble about his decision and do what he believed to be best.

 

If the man wanted to lie to himself, about his talent and his passions, then so be it.

 

Ben made his way to the water's edge to find his calm. He was content there, sketching away. He could draw from memory and the one thing in his mind that continued to haunt him was that stupid silly man.

 

When Joe found him by the water, he was not phased. He knew this would be the end for them and Ben, having never feared anything, decided to take the chance and kissed the young man. Joe did not kiss him back, but he did not push him away either. Ben took it as a win and left the younger man in the sad to return to their home.

 

Ben packed swiftly, deciding not to take any real work with him aside from his sketchbook. The Mazzello’s could do what they wanted with it. Sell it or toss it away. He wasn’t bothered in the least. Sometime in the night he was woken by a knock and found Joe standing there.

 

He looked anxious and annoyed. He quickly said his peace, insisting that Ben did not have to leave. Ben wanted to argue with him. If he did not leave, he would need a reason to stay. A real reason, not the bullshit answer that Joe had given him as some lazy attempt to make it better.

 

They didn’t speak of the kiss that night. Nor did they when the following day came. He took the lady of the house out and gave her a lesson of her own. She was pleased and thanked him for not being so hard on her dear boy. Ben fought to roll his eyes. Mrs. Mazzello was a lovely woman but she was dim in so many ways.

 

She put no pressure on her boy and instead allowed him to skate around without a future, without a passion. She didn’t know of the things he had written, the fantastic words that spoke so quietly yet had so much power. Only Ben did.

 

Like the kiss, it was their little secret.

 

Things had obviously changed between the two men, but Ben refused to allow it to bother him. He wasn’t scared like Joe was. He didn’t have anything to hide. He wasn’t worried or fearful and didn’t care about what the fools in town said about him. They could whisper and shout all they wanted. Ben was true to himself and he was proud of that.

 

He and Joe had barely spoken a word until an old friend arrived on their doorstep. Gwilym Lee had gone to school with Ben back in England and was currently serving in the British Royal army. He was in American for work and decided to stop by since Ben happened to be in the same area as his young cousin Lucy.

 

Rather than allow the man to stay in a local inn, Ben persuaded Mrs. Mazzello to give Gwilym their second spare bedroom. They caught up on everything, talking about life and what was going on in the world. The war around them was going on and nobody wanted to deal with it the way Gwilym believed it needed to be dealt with.

 

Ben tried his best to have fun with Gwilym here as it had been so long since the two were together. They were grown up now and had their own problems to deal with. So for the three days, he was staying with him, he wanted to pretend like it was the old days. When they were young and wild and careless and free.

 

Joe didn’t like that and Ben knew it. Ben could see the glares that Joe would send them and how curt he was whenever Gwilym was in the room.

 

Despite Gwilym also having a bit of a fancy for a man here and there, he preferred a woman but that was his business. Ben wasn’t going to lie and say he didn’t stand a bit closer to the man whenever Joe was around. Perhaps it was cruel, but he didn’t care. If the young man wanted to act like a young child and scowl in the corner than Ben was going to give him something to scowl about.

 

Joe practically dragged him outside to have a bit of a tif about it all. Ben was certain that the blue-blooded American man would bust his face in just for acting on the things people thought about him. Ben wasn’t phased. Wasn’t worried.

 

He didn’t need to be protected because he had nothing to hide. He loved who he loved and while he may not be in love with Gwilym he wasn’t going to hide the affection he had for him, even if it was mostly played up to be a thorn in Joe’s side.

 

When Gwilym departed, Ben carried on with his life. He had just a few weeks until the summer would be over and he could go home. He’d forget all about the things he learned here and forget about the scared little boy that lived just down the hall from him.

 

When Joe burst into his room, he didn’t even flinch.

 

“He’s gone. You won’t have to rip your eyes from your head at the sight of us any longer.” He told him, not even bothering to look up from his sketchbook.

 

Ben turned his head, opening his mouth to continue speaking but his words were cut short by a kiss.

 

It was hard and unpracticed. Joe had confessed to him long ago that he didn’t have a lot of experience with women. He kissed two in his lifetime and now technically, he’s kissed, Ben. Or Ben kissed him at least.

 

But now Joe was here, in his room, holding onto his face and kissing him like a mad man. When he pulled away, the brunet was panting and staring at him. They stood there, just watching one another. Ben thought of speaking but chose to use his lips for something else instead.

 

He kissed Joe with earnest, holding onto him tightly. Joe’s fingers tightened around his shirt, gripping onto him as he would disappear at any moment. They stayed like that, wrapped up in one another, kissing and touching ever so gently until the parents of the home returned.

 

Joe sprang up wildly and Ben turned his face to him the role of his eyes. “Don’t worry. You don’t owe me anything. Everybody gets curious every now and then.” It was true.

 

Joe wasn’t the first questioning man that Ben had been with. London was full of it. Men who didn’t know what they wanted but found themselves leaning towards the male gaze. Some turned out to be lonely bastards who shunned themselves away and ran into the arms of the first woman who gave them attention. While others were like Ben. Open and free and gay.

 

Ben wasn’t going to pretend like this was some magical moment. He knew Joe well enough by now. Knew he wasn’t going to fall in love and confess his sins. It was just fun and Ben was okay with that.

 

The two men found their ways around one another. They would act normal out in the open, act like friends, like a tutor and a student. That's what they were and there was no pretending. But behold closed doors they were gentle and sweet. They were lovers in every sense of the word.

 

It took a bit of time but Joe grew more open to the idea of being with a man. Ben had told him all about his own experiences, both with men and women. He had tried a bit of everything but found at the end of the day, he longed to be in the arms of a man rather than a woman. He saw no wrong in it and neither did his family. He wasn’t hurting anybody nor was he hurting himself.

 

Joe was a nervous sexual partner at first. Ben knew the man liked having the blond’s hands on his ass, but having more there was too much to handle right away. Ben took it gladly and it was such a strange time. They were laughing and smiling. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be adorable, but it was.

 

They got better after that. Joe grew more confident. Ben liked seeing him in this light. Seeing his heated gaze across the table and knowing that after dinner, when the lights were down low and his parents were asleep, Joe was going to fuck him into oblivion.

 

They did more than just sex and Ben liked that too. They went back to being close again, even closer than they were before. Joe had done his best to show Ben the ways of baseball while the blond tried to show him how to play cricket. Both games had them laughing and running around the yard like a couple of lads.

 

They would share kisses and hold hands when the world wasn’t watching. Ben didn’t like hiding, but he did it for Joe’s sake. For his sanity.

 

People still made comments but Ben didn’t give a damn. No amount of hate could stop the good that he was feeling and that was a fact.

 

They would lie together in bed, listening to one another’s heartbeats. They would dance to music and make little promises. Ben had suggested Joe come visit one day, to see his families estate and sit with him by the beach that his family owned.

 

Joe’s family had money but even he was taken back when he found out the life that Ben would be returning to. The young brunet didn’t understand why he’d give up all he had to come teach some American kid about painting but it was more than that.

 

He didn’t have to come to America. He could have continued to live his life in Europe and show off his work, but he wanted more. He wanted to have a purpose with his art and he found it in Joe.

 

He followed what he loved and also found someone else to love along the way.

 

When the end of summer came along, there was so much to be said, but Ben knew better than to speak a single word. There was still going much going on in Joe’s mind. Ben didn’t want to ruin their last moments by pestering him with things he refused to accept.

 

They said goodbye with a tight embrace. Not with a kiss or words of love, but with a hug and a glance. He said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Mazzello and got into the cab and went on his merry way.

 

He arrived home a few days later and his mother was so happy to see him. He had written her letters on and off, but it wasn’t enough. She was glad to her have the boy back, glad to see what he had enjoyed himself in America but she didn’t want him to return any time soon.

 

She had asked him everything. About the people he worked for and the friends he had made. Ben didn’t tell his mother about Joe and himself. She wouldn’t have cared in the least. Or rather, she would have been happy for him, but then he would have to explain to her that he had fallen for a man who refused to accept his own feelings out in the open. It wasn’t a heartache he wanted to share.

 

He wrote Joe a letter nearly a month after he had returned. It was a simple one at that. He explained that he had arrived home safely and was currently going back to work at his gala. He had a few requests from people but didn’t think anything of it. It just worked. Nothing passionate, nothing with purpose. The people paying him just wanted something pretty to hang up and show off.

 

He didn’t want to do it but he needed to. It was something to do other than sitting around and missing the American man.

 

When he got a letter back from Joe, he was surprised to see he was no longer in his little southern town but rather traveling with the Marines. Joe’s best friend joined not long ago. Rami had always been very kind to him, always ignoring the cruel words of the others in town and accepting Ben in any form he came in. He liked Rami and wished him the best of luck when he departed.

 

Joe never showed any intentions of joining the war and it terrified Ben endlessly. He heard horror stories from Gwilym about the things he had seen and while he would never call Joe weak, it was easy for even the strongest man to lose his edge.

 

Ben was scared for him and he confessed this, but he promised to keep him in his thoughts and his prayers. He wanted the young man to return home healthy and reminded him to be proud of signing up and serving his country.

 

Ben wrote back again and again. He didn’t expect Joe to speak to him. He thought that this was his way out. That he would find his purpose on the battlefield and forget all about Ben, but he never did. They went back and forth, keeping up the conversation that had previously. Joe would never speak his name in the letters and Ben knew why.

 

He didn’t like it. Didn’t want to pretend for his sake, but he did. He became his special little friend, his secret lover, his “B.” Joe would write him poems, would tell him how he felt like he was lost in the dark, but found that each letter that arrived for him was more and more of a reason for him to find the light.

 

They confessed things to one another, things neither expected to ever say. Joe had been with somebody else, a woman he had yet. It was a weak attempt to find something he knew didn’t exist. In the end, he felt nothing and as he walked home he found his fellow marines beating some flamer who dared to flirt with them.

 

Joe felt trapped. Each day was getting worse and worse and the only thing that kept him hanging on were the letters they would exchange. He saw these horrible acts and he spoke of ending the life of another person. Joe was slowly slipping into a void that not even Ben was sure they could pull him out of.

 

Ben decided to put his heart out on the line and confess it all to Joe. They were never meant to find one another but they did and he was so happy for it. What was meant to be fun and exciting turned into a real friendship and even possibly a relationship? Ben spoke of love in a way that was so raw and rare and he feared that Joe would never write him again if he read it aloud.

 

And it turned out he never did. Ben never got a response from Joe. Not a letter explaining that they had to end it. Not goodbye. The last thing Ben wrote to Joe was him saying that he loved him and while he did not regret it, he lived in fear that the man may not have even seen it.

 

He didn’t know which was worse. The possibility of Joe dying without knowing his true feelings or reading it all and cutting him from his life. Ben didn’t know and it worried him.

 

Weeks went on and nothing ever came. Ben carried on with his life. Carried on with his work. Joe was always a constant in his mind, but it was never something he spoke about. To him, it was like Joe didn’t even exist outside of his own mind. He knew it wasn’t healthy but it was the only way for him to cope with reality. Too many people died during the war and it was a clear possibility for Joe to have been one of them.

 

Ben thought of writing to the Mazzello’s but he didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to rustle up any emotions if the two had, in fact, lost their son so he just let it go. He put all his focus on his work and tried to move on.

 

He went on dates. Smiled pretty for the men that came around, but it never turned into more. Ben didn’t want it to. He knew he had to let it go. That he had to live his own life and he was trying. He was painting and drawing. He was selling his work and taking request. He didn’t care about the art anymore. If somebody wanted him to draw a fat kitty cat wearing an ugly bowtie and a hat then he’d do so.

 

He’d take on any task because his work kept him busy. And being busy left very little room for thinking. The less he thought about, the less he worried. And the less he worried, the more carefree he could be.

 

Ben was almost beginning to believe it all himself until one afternoon he ran into a familiar face in town. The war was over and Gwilym had returned. He was unfazed by it all, but he was hiding something. They sat together in a cafe and Ben told him to talk about it. To express his emotions.

 

Keeping it all bundled up wasn’t healthy and even if the man had been through this before and made a career out of it, that didn’t there weren’t things haunting his mind.

 

When Gwilym did make his confession, it wasn’t what Ben had expected to hear.

 

“I saw him.” He muttered carefully. “Joe. When I was in New York, for my cousin's wedding. He was there.”

 

Ben remembered meeting Gwilym’s young cousin. She had been courting the young Malek boy and it seemed upon his return they rekindled their romance. Ben didn’t know what to say to this news. Hearing that he was alive . . . it was wonderful.

 

He was alive and well and living his life in his home town. Ben couldn’t be more pleased.

 

“He’s not well, Benjamin. The war got to him in ways nobody other than fellow soldiers would understand.” Gwilym shifted in his seat, shaking his head at his cup. “He didn’t even want me to tell you this. It was like he felt better off with you believing he was gone.”

 

“I’m glad you told me.” Ben’s voice was thick and slow. He shifted in his chair, his fingers twitching towards his glass.

 

He knew he shouldn’t have done it. If Joe wanted to speak to him, he would have reached out. But he couldn’t stop himself from writing the letter. He poured his heart out into it, expressing every emotion he could muster.

 

How happy he was that he had survived the war and was back home to his family. He mentioned that while he hadn’t been through anything even remotely close to what Joe had, he understood where the pain was coming through. War was not easy and it never would be.

 

People painted these ideas that when you join the army, you are having the time of your life. You’re representing your country and saving the day. All the while you were killing another person. Just an innocent man who was told the same damn lies. Of course, something like that went to your head.

 

Healing was important and the only thing that could heal a wound that was more internal was time. He had suggested little things. Taking a book and sitting by the window. Count the petals in all the flowers he saw. Going by the water and listening to the wind. Hear the colors as they whist around him.

 

He never received a letter in return, so he kept writing. He knew how hard it was for him, adjusting to average life after living the way he had in the marines. Waking up every morning to the sun in your face and not a waiting pistol. Waking up in a bed and not on the ground. Ben could only imagine the dreams that haunted the brunet.

 

He thought about coming to him. About packing his things and going back to America to see him. But the possibility of being shunned, of being pushed away was too likely. Ben didn’t expect Joe to return home from the war the same person. He was older now and he had seen so much darkness.

 

He wanted to take the man into his arms and show him that there was still good in this world, but that wasn’t a decision he could make. If Joe wanted to heal, to grow, he had to make the movements.

 

Ben sent him one final letter and he was straight to the point. He loved Joe endlessly and believed he always would. Their time together was short but Joe opened his heart in ways he never imagined.

 

They had their differences, yes, but that didn’t change the way Ben felt.

 

He would wait for Joe. He’d wait an eternity if he wanted him to. The invitation was his. All Joe had to do was make the choice.

 

Ben would carry on like always after that. He would continue his work and focus solely on that. He had lost his leather-bound sketchbook and bought himself a new one. He worked on whatever popped into his mind, though he never sold any of his sketches. Those were for him only.

 

Time passed and his name began to circle back around London. He got more offers for tutoring but he turned them all down. Those days were gone. He was older and didn’t feel the need to teach anybody anything anymore. He would paint what people wanted him to paint and collect his money and go on his merry way.

 

The only time he was truly happy was when he was by the water's edge. He could sit in the sand for hours, just drawing whatever came into his mind. He had been there, lost in his thoughts and his work when the young man found him, though he wasn’t so young anymore.

 

Ben thought he was imagining him at first. His hair was older and his boyish looks were gone. He was handsome and rugged. He looked so bloody tired and yet so fucking beautiful.

 

“You’re here.” The words nearly got caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected Joe to take up his offer. And yet here he was, beside him now, sitting in the sand.

 

“Do you still hear the colors, Mr. Hardy?”

 

Oh, how Ben had longed to hear his voice. The soft accent that slipped through his words. Ben didn’t have time to process a response. Joe was kissing him. Right there on the beach, so freely. Even if it was a private area, the chances of being seen by someone was still likely.

 

But neither seemed to give a damn.

 

Ben grabbed hold of Joe’s shirt, his fingers turning white from the grip. He worried that he may wake up and he’d be gone. That this was some wild dream that he was having. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

 

Joe was smiling at him. It had been a smile he drew so many times, but no amount of pictures could truly capture that rare beauty that was Joe Mazzello.

 

“I took your advice,” Joe told him quietly. “I followed what I loved.”

 

Another kiss came his way and Ben was ready for it. He would kiss him forever if he had the chance and by the looks of it, their forever was beginning right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is something nobody asked for but I hope you liked it anyway. It’s not exactly more “woman in white” than it is “the pacific” mostly cause WIW is pretty hard to write without the main plot line.
> 
> Regardless of that, I hope you enjoyed this! Please lemme know down belong what you truly thought.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely don't know why I wrote this. I just had the idea for a bit now and decided, why not?

The nightmares came more often than not. For a while, Joe thought he was over this. It had been three years since the war ended and while they weren’t as harsh as they first had been when he returned home, the vivid memories of no man's land haunted him still. 

 

He wouldn’t talk about it, not at first. Not with Ben. The man had been so kind to him, so loving and accepting, Joe felt like he was taking advantage of him. Ben welcomed him into his home, into his life. He didn’t want to mess it all up by revealing the darkness that lingered deep inside his mind.

 

He played it off well enough. When he would wake late into the night, covered in a cold sweat, he would hurry out of bed and off outside. Most nights Ben would carry on sleeping and when he did wake, Joe would make an excuse that he just needed to smoke.

 

He would crawl back into the bed and wrap his arms around the handsome man he loved so very much, allowing Ben to coax him back to sleep. He rested well when he was in Ben’s arms, so that was where he would stay. 

 

He never knew someone so lovely could exist, but he did. Long gone was the boy that was too terrified to even glance another guy’s way, and in his place was a man who loved a man endlessly. 

 

Ben had quickly made his home their home, giving Joe the space he needed while also making the estate their own little paradise. He had come to terms with his feelings and his sexuality. His parents didn’t exactly understand it, but they didn’t judge him either. He was happy and that was all that mattered. 

 

And Joe was happy. Even with the thoughts that haunted him, he was so fucking happy with Ben. And Ben was happy with him. He knew this as Ben told him often. Whether they were just sitting together or they were out and about. Resting in the sand by the water or busying themselves with their work. 

 

Ben was painting still, showing off his latest works at the studio while Joe was publishing his second book. It was a hit, just like the first and Joe couldn’t have been more proud. For so long he felt so lost, but he found particular solace in his writing. 

 

He mostly stuck with poetry or fiction, not wanting to dive right into writing anything too real. Ben had suggestions that he writes about his time during the war, but Joe refused. Going back into that would be too painful. Not enough time has passed for him to be comfortable with the things that had happened, with the things he had done. 

 

He partially wondered if that was why he was in so much pain if that was why those thoughts haunted him so. Because he pushed them away and wouldn’t talk about it. He knew that was the responsible thing to do, but how could he? 

 

Joe nearly lost himself in every sense of the word because of that war and he wanted nothing more than to push it all aside and move on. He wanted to continue to live the life he was living. He had a gorgeous man by his side who wanted him in every way possible. Joe refused to taint that image by revealing the darkness he held so deep inside. 

 

So he pushed it down, allowing the dreams to get to him and plastering a happy face whenever Ben tried to look too closely. Joe was fairly certain Ben could sense something was off, but he was kind enough not to question it. It hadn’t gotten out of control, so there was no reason to worry. That was what Joe told himself. 

 

The nightmares were manageable, so there was no reason to get worried about it. He could handle a few scares, a few sleepless nights. 

 

When his second book was published, Joe had said no to a book tour. He didn’t need it. He didn’t want it. All he cared about were sales. The only thing he did agree to was going home to celebrate the launch. He hadn’t returned since he first left to join Ben in England and he had to admit, it would be nice to see everyone again. 

 

Ben went with him without question. They had become inseparable since their joining, so Joe wasn’t surprised when Ben already began packing for them both. His mother was pleased to have them back, especially since Ben brought her a new painting to hang above the mantle. 

 

They would be there for a week and Joe wanted to do as much as he could while also wanting to absolutely nothing. He spent the first day with his parents, catching up on everything that had happened while he was gone. 

 

His mother gossiped on and on about this and that, telling him all about who was pregnant and who was divorced. She knew everything about everyone and while it was a little odd hearing all about everybody else’s business, Joe had to admit it was nice to be back. 

 

He visited Rami the following day, ambushing him in his home. The shorter man was thrilled to see him and Lucy wasn’t fair off. They had a second child, a little baby boy that was just learning to walk while their daughter was already up and running. 

 

Joe sat with Rami as Ben chased the little girl around in the yard. Ben was sickeningly wonderful with children and it was a sight that was both beautiful and bittersweet to see. They had never spoken of it, but it was fairly obvious they would never have kids of their own. 

 

He felt guilty for it, knowing he’d never be able to give his parents a grandchild. Adoption wasn’t going to be an option. Who the hell would give two men a child, even if they could afford one without issue. It was sad, but they dealt with it. Putting their focus on their careers as well as each other. 

 

“How have you been?” Rami asked him. They spoke every now and then, exchanging letters and phone calls when they could. 

 

Joe knew there was more to Rami’s question. It was loaded and serious and Joe just shrugged, sipping on the beer that Rami had given him. 

 

Joe didn’t drink at home. He didn’t allow himself too. He knew too many men who fought alongside him that lost themselves to the drink to deal with the emotions that were running through their minds. 

 

He enjoyed the drink now, to keep it casual and to keep himself loose, but he didn’t say anything. Didn’t give Rami a reason to worry or make him think he wasn’t okay. 

 

Truth was, Joe didn’t think he’d ever be okay. He was dealing with something terrible and dealing with it on his own accord. He knew he could ask for help, but he didn’t want to be a bother. He didn’t want to struggle any more than he already was. So he pushed it down, down, until it was buried and almost forgotten about. 

 

Lucy demanded that they all go out for dinner. Apparently, it had been so long she and Rami had a date night. Joe’s mother was more than eager to watch the two toddlers and the two couples went out for a night out on the town. 

 

Ben and Joe went out every now and then, to grab dinner or see a show. England wasn’t too far different from America. There were still people around, people to judge, but they mostly ignored them. Joe based that one them living in a better to do area. They were wealthy and people of London had far too much on their mind to care about two men walking down the street. 

 

Still, they didn’t hold hands or link arms. They sat together as they ate dinner, Joe and Lucy going back and forth, chatting about this and that, and Rami and Ben laughing about what was going on in this part of the world and that part of the world. 

 

They held a toast for Joe’s next book and the man had to admit, it felt good to be home, surrounded by friends. He liked England and he made friends there, but Joe would always miss Rami. A man needed his best friend around every now and then. 

 

When dinner was finished, they walked through the street, enjoying the nightlife. They walked side by side, their fingers grazing, but neither took the others hand. It didn’t seem to matter, however. People noticed, people stared, and some people spoke up. 

 

“Hey, fags!”Joe paused, searching for the voice. Rami and Lucy stopped as well, confused. Ben, who had been used to being bashed, insisted they just keep going and ignore it. 

 

Here was a group of a young man hanging out the back of a pickup not too far off. They reminded Joe of himself years ago. Back when there was nothing to do and no ladies to harass, they sat around drinking and doing stupid shit. 

 

“What you call me?” Joe asked, ignoring Ben’s words to resist. 

 

“I called you a fag.” The younger man told him, smiling back to his friends. 

 

Joe remembered being that young, without a care in the world. You thought you were invincible. They lived in a world where Joe was the minority and had very little people to stick up for him, so Joe could already tell the younger male had no idea. He didn’t care that Joe was narrowing his eyes and clenching his fit. No one would stand up for Joe, so the man could do whatever he wanted. 

 

“You don’t scare me,” Joe told him boldly. 

 

When the younger man laughed, unfazed by his words. “Just keep walking. You and your little boyfriend can keep on going and leave our town.”

 

“I was born here, moron. This is my town.” 

 

“Well, your kind ain't welcome here.” The man hissed out, his eyes narrowing. 

 

Joe had heard many different words before. Freak. Fruitcake. Faggot. All meant the same thing. All brought out a blind rage that couldn’t be pushed back down, no matter how much Ben tried to convince him that it didn’t matter. That they were better than that. 

 

When the other man spoke again, saying the word that ticked Joe off so very much, the brunet didn’t hesitate. He swung his arm back and launched it forward, punching the fucker right in the fact. Everybody around them was stunned and watched with shocked eyes as Joe leaped forward, pushing the man down and holding him there. 

 

“Now you fucking listen to me! I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun and watched men die before my own two fucking eyes! I have killed men younger than you and would do it again if I had to. I fought for this town, for this country, so don’t you fucking dare tell me I am not welcome here!” 

 

“Joseph,” Ben called out carefully. 

 

Joe didn’t realize he had been screaming. He hadn’t realized a small audience had begun to fill around them. The young guy was staring at him with wide eyes, obviously caught off guard by his outburst. 

 

Pushing up off the ground, Joe reached for Ben’s hand, allowing the blond to drag him away. They didn’t talk about it until they arrived back to Joe’s home. His mother had given Ben his old room, but neither of his parents was surprised when they huddled into Joe’s childhood bedroom. They were adults and knew what they would get up to. It wasn’t mentioned, but that was for the better. 

 

Ben sat behind Joe, running his hand up and down his back. Joe was still seething, his eyes still blazed with fury. He wanted to beat that little bastard to a pulp. Wanted him to feel as badly as Joe felt. He knew it was terrible, but he didn’t care. 

 

“You can’t let them bother you, Joe,” Ben whispered, pressing his cheek to Joe’s naked shoulder. 

 

“It’s always going to bother me, Ben,” Joe confessed. 

 

He was a fucking war vet. He had seen the worst things a man could ever imagine and yet he was treated like he had some sort of disease. He fought for this land and yet they had the audacity to say he didn’t belong in it. It was absolute bullshit and he refused to stand for it. 

 

Ben hated it too, Joe knew this, but he also didn’t like to fight. He could hold off on being intimate in public if it meant not having to deal with the hate of some stranger. Joe hated that the most. He saw Rami and Lucy, holding hands and kissing on the corner and he was jealous. He wanted to hold Ben’s hand and kiss him as they waited to cross the road. He wanted to be normal, but he knew he never would be. 

 

He went to bed angry that night, Ben pressed against him as they slept. Or well Ben slept. Joe went outside and sat in the gazebo, smoking in the moonlight and working on his third novel. Half the poems were angry and the stories he shared were harsh, but they came from his heart. He knew it would be too real for some, but there would be others who appreciated the truth that came from his words. 

 

They only had a few more days there and Ben begged Joe to enjoy it. When they returned back to England they could do whatever they wanted, but here, they had to follow the rules. Ben was okay with that so long as Joe was. 

 

Joe wasn’t, not in the least, but he wouldn’t fight it. He stayed home and drank the cheap beer his mother kept in the house and signed some of the books that would be sold at the local book store. He refused to do a signing but would give them these to help them out. 

 

Joe had hoped that coming back to the states would bring a sense of realness to him, but all it did was make him angry. Ben tried his best to calm him. To make him feel like it was the old days. They went down by the water to sketch and swim and for a small moment, Joe had to admit he was enjoying himself. 

 

They did things they were never brave enough to do when Ben first came to work for his family. They kissed in the sand and in the back of Joe’s father's car. Ben blew him out in the gazebo and Joe was more than willing to bend over for him behind the bleachers at his old baseball field. 

 

Joe knew he was pushing it. That he was going up and beyond sexually with Ben because he knew he could. If this world was going to judge him, then he was going to give them something to be judged about. He would fuck this man wild and make love to him without a second thought. He would praise his cock and swear to be by his side forever and ever. 

 

It was the second to last night in America when another nightmare came. This one was harder than the other. Scarier. It was a dream that Joe couldn’t escape from. He was crying and thrashing about, to the point where even Ben couldn’t wake him. 

 

When he did wake, it was from water being thrown on him, his father sitting above him, shouting his name. Joe was panting, searching for the familiar blond. He reached out, needing to touch him. Ben held him without a second thought. 

 

He couldn’t describe it when asked. It was just death. Everywhere. Joe was so lost to it, no escape. The war wasn’t over and never would be. It was horrible and he cried in Ben’s arms for the first time ever. 

 

When morning came, his old therapist paid him a visit. They walked like old times and Joe let it all spill out. Ben was by his side, holding his hand and listening to him as he expressed his worries. He knew it was stupid, wanting to hide this part of himself, but he didn’t care. He needed to do this. To hide away from the darkness.

 

Ben was by his side, whispering to him, promising that it would be okay. Joe didn’t know how that was possible, but he wanted to believe him. He needed to believe him. 

 

They were sitting by the water the morning they were supposed to leave. Joe was too scared to sleep and Ben knew the crashing seas would calm him. Ben was anxious about something and it irked Joe to know that it took him so long to finally notice it. 

 

“I was hoping to ask you this when we first arrived, but I never got the chance,” Ben mentioned to him. 

 

He was shifting in the sand where they were sitting. He moved forward, going to kneel down in front of Ben. He was fumbling around, searching his jacket pockets for something. When he found it, he pulled it out, holding it up. 

 

It was a ring. Silver and shining. Plain yet so very elegant. 

 

“I know we can’t . . . it’s not possible for us to be together like Lucy or Rami or your parents but my feelings for you are just as true.” 

 

It didn’t take long for Joe to realize what Ben was trying to ask, what he was asking. Ben was still speaking when Joe reached out to take hold of his face, holding him still as he kissed him deeply. 

 

“Marry me,” Joe muttered as he pulled back, their foreheads touching and his eyes squeezed shut.

 

“That’s what I am asking,” Ben whispered. When Joe opened his eyes, the man was smiling, his green eyes as bright as ever. 

 

“I don’t care how. We’ll break every law if we have to.” Joe swore, ready to take on the whole world to spend the rest of his life with Ben.

 

Joe pulled back, tugging at the ring he wore on his right hand. He had gotten it for his high school graduation. Gold with onyx. He brought it with him across the world, a tiny reminder of the real world while the war was going on. 

 

He held it up to Ben, an offering and an exchange for the ring Ben had gotten him. They switched easily, each slipping the ring on the other man’s finger. They kissed again, holding one another as the warm beach wind blew against them. 

 

And for the first time in a long time, Joe truly believed they would be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I hope it blended well with the original story. I know it's a bit . . . wishy? Romantic? I don't know how to describe it. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed. Please tell me what you thought!


	7. Memorial Day -- 10 Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY TO ALL MY AMERICAN READERS!!! 
> 
> And you know, happy Monday to everyone else!
> 
> Please remember those who died fighting for our country and please spend this day with the ones you love by watching The Pacific on Amazon if you have it!
> 
> If not, steal it. Break the law. Fight the system.

Joe walked through the rows of headstones, his eyes cast downwards to avoid stepping on any flowers or pictures or flags. The cemetery wasn’t packed and Joe didn’t know if that made him feel good or bad. 

 

Bad, because today was the day you should be here. A day for mourning and remembering. 

 

Good, because Joe also understood that people had to forget, had to move on. Life always finds a way, even after the disaster, even after a war. 

 

It had been ten years since Joe returned home from fighting the good fight. His mind was still haunted by the scenes of yesteryear, but it always would be. There was no way to remove those scared memories, and Joe didn’t want to remove them. 

 

Despite the pain that came from it, Joe didn’t want to forget about everything he had lived through. All those horrible things lead him to the life he had now. 

 

And he had to believe he had a very good life. 

 

Being out and being proud wasn’t exactly an option at this point for them, but they didn’t hide anything either. Joe never shied away from anything, never pretended to be somebody he was not. He loved one person, one man, and that was enough for him. If you asked him who he belonged to, he would say his name with a swell of pride and excitement. He would write him a million sonnets and praise his talents from New York to jolly old London town. 

 

Marriage was not a possibility for himself and Ben, but they had the closest thing to it. They wore their respected rings and said their promise to one another. They signed away their names to make one another their legal next of kin, blood be damned. 

 

They threw a celebration in England and invited all those who they knew would come. His parents, Rami, and Lucy with their children, and Gwilym with his family. A few others they had met through their careers. It was a wonderful bash and one of the happiest times in Joe’s life up to this moment. 

 

Joe swore he would never step back in America until he was given the respect he deserved, though that could only last so long. No one would ever fully respect a fag, even if he risked his neck to protect his very country. 

 

They returned only once a year by the request of Joe’s mother, who didn’t want to be alone since the passing of his father. The good doctor stayed on this earth long enough before finally bowing out. It was a heartbreaking scene, especially since more than one person didn’t think Joe should be allowed at the funeral due to how he lived his life. 

 

But that was long ago. 

 

Joe had moved on from then and while he pushed for his mother to join them in England so she wouldn’t be alone, the woman downright refused. She couldn’t leave her home, leave her husband despite him being buried deep in the ground. Joe tried to come up with different ways to convince her, but it seemed only one would be the exception. 

 

Joe was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the small hand slip into his own, tiny little fingers curling tightly so they could walk together. 

 

“Papa said you would be sad today.” The little girl mentioned quietly, her green eyes settling on his own hazel. “Are you sad?” 

 

Anne had been a distant cousin whose parents had the strangest of falling outs. Apparently, there were mentions of an affair and bribery and a whole bunch other things that a young girl should never have been a part of. In a moment of desperation, Anne’s mother contacted Ben I hopes of passing the girl off onto a wealthy family member. Neither men believed the woman had good intentions, just wanting to create a bit of a dowery for her child to grow up with so when she finally reached the age to join the high society, they would have someone to show off. 

 

Neither Ben nor Joe wanted that for the girl, especially since she wouldn’t exactly have the most normal of upbringings. She would be living in a home with two men who were lovers. One of them being an American veteran and while they both had enough money to support her, they knew no one would truly accept her for those factors. 

 

And yet, being in an odd, but loving home seemed far more favorable than the normal yet abusive home the little girl had been growing up in. 

 

She was four when she was brought to them and while timid at first, she opened up easily enough over time. She adored reading, just as Joe had and while she wasn’t as talented as Ben when it came to painting, she was more than content with taking lessons with Ben. 

 

They spoiled her endlessly, as this was as close to having a legitimate child as they could ever have. After all, having a woman carry their child was completely out of the question and no one would allow two men to adopt together, no matter how many children there were in the world that needed families. 

 

Ben still spoke about it; about using their money and bit of fame to get another child into their home. Both men adored their daughter, but they also craved have a son. A young lad they call have carry on their name, someone Joe could take to baseball games and teach the sport too. 

 

Until that day came, Anne allowed them to pass everything onto her. She had been with them for three years. Things weren’t easy and sometimes Joe thought the young girl would be better off with a couple that was better at being parents, especially when one was suffering from something she had no idea of just yet.

 

She would learn over time and perhaps when she was older Joe would sit her down and tell her all about the horrors he lived through, but for now, this was enough. 

 

“Yeah. I’m sad, pretty girl.” He answered, mustering a smile as he squeezed her hand on his own. 

 

When they decided to bring her to America for the first time, they took her during Christmas time. They introduced her to his mother, who was utterly and completely lost in the little girl. Joe’s mother was one of those women who were meant to be a parent and that continued down the line. She was the perfect grandmother and doted upon Anne every single chance she could. 

 

Joe knew she wouldn’t be able to resist staying away for much longer now that Anne was there to stay. She finally agreed to come to England and stay with them; live the last years of her life surrounded by her family. That was all Joe wanted for his mother. 

 

When they came to help her pack, Joe chose this specific weekend, knowing it would be of the last times he went to America willingly. He still came around whenever he would release another book, but that was strictly business. 

 

They were here for more than one reason and Joe wanted to take full advantage of that. They took their time, enjoying the wonderful weather and holiday weekend. Rami and Lucy threw a bit of a barbecue and invited them over. Everyone was fascinated by the little girl in the pretty dress with the adorably posh accent. 

 

Anne played with Rami’s children, running around without a care and allowing her Papa to show her to use a sparkler. She was so young and carefree; the joy it brought Joe was indescribable. To know that they were the reason there was a smile on her face; two men who were threatened and treated like absolute garbage for just being who they were. 

 

They fit so perfectly together. A jagged puzzle that finally found their missing piece. 

 

Joe didn’t like the holiday after serving the war as he felt most people only used it as an excuse to enjoy the weather rather than face the facts that hundreds of people were dead. He had gotten over that anger over time and now just took it as a day he would celebrate on his own.

 

Joe didn’t like coming to the cemetery. Not when his father died and not now when he came to pay his respects to his fellow soldiers that didn’t come back with beating hearts and pumping lungs. But he knew he had to do this. Had to walk through and remember everything that he had lost during that time. Friends. Brothers. Hope. 

 

And yet he returned with his life and while it seemed to dim at first, he was better off now. Happy even. 

 

He had someone he loved and a child that loved him endlessly. 

 

Fifteen years ago, Joe had just been a dumb kid in school with no idea what he wanted to do with his life. Ten years ago he returned from the war more dead than alone. And now here he was, walking hand in hand with the child he never thought he would have. 

 

“Papa says it is okay to be sad. Like when my bunny died. I cried a lot, but then you bought me the puppy.”

 

Despite his heavy heart, Joe found himself smiling. Anne was a curious child who was born into a horrible situation. With fair hair and bright eyes, all she wanted to do was explore and Joe hoped she did just that. He hoped her wondering eyes never faltered and her giant heart never stopped growing. 

 

She had brought the small white rabbit from her broken home and the creature, unfortunately, didn’t survive much longer. It was hard on them all, especially to Joe who wasn’t ready to teach such a young child about life or death. 

 

Ben was by his side however and they explained to Anne that sometimes the things they love just can’t stay with them no matter how much they want them to. It wasn’t much longer than Ben arrived with the small beagle hidden inside his coat, having found him as a stray along the busy streets. 

 

Anne was smiling again and had been smiling ever since. Something Joe was proud to say he had hand in. 

 

“It is okay to be sad. If you didn’t know what it felt like to be sad, how would you be able to know what it felt like to be happy?” 

 

Anne hummed, swinging the basket that Ben had given her. She was given the big task of placing a single flower in front of all the graves. She did it carefully, speaking to the headstone and trying her best to introduce herself to each and every person. It was sweet and it warmed Joe’s heart to know she did it on her own accord, knowing that the person would appreciate the bit of attention. 

 

They had finished for the day, ending their round as they made their way back to where the car was parked. 

 

“Daddy, are we still going to the beach tonight?” Anne asked him softly, tugging on his hand to get his attention. “Grandma said there may be fireworks. Have you ever seen fireworks before?” 

 

“Uh huh. They’re big and bright, lighting up the whole sky.” 

 

Anne made a small noise of excitement, breaking away from Joe when Ben came into view. While their daughter was head over heels at the idea of seeing the night sky shimmer in bright colors, Joe was less appealed to the idea, but he didn’t mind. Anne’s happiness and joy would always come first. And if at any point it got too much for him, if his head starting reading and the medication they put him on just wasn’t working, Joe knew he would have Ben there to hold him close and remind him that everything was okay. 

 

“Ready to go?” Ben asked, hoping the door so Anne could shuffle inside. 

 

Joe turned around, taking one last look at the cemetery. He knew it wasn’t that long ago that he could have wound up there. Buried deep in the ground, whether it be by the bullet of the enemy or his very own hand. 

 

Joe had existed in the darkness for so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to live in the light. His mind may not be perfect and the scars of those days may linger forever, but he knew tomorrow would always come. 

 

“Daddy!” Anne shouted, standing up in the open door of the car. “Hurry up, please! I don’t want to be late for the fireworks!”

 

Joe was living a life he never thought possible for himself and while things may not have been perfect, he would not have changed a single thing about it. 

 

“All right. Let’s go.” He decided, turning his head on the cemetery so he could slip into the car. 

 

He took Ben’s hand in his own, turning up the radio so their daughter could sing along. Anne’s gentle voice filled the car, followed by Ben’s who was singing with her. He brought Ben’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly as they drove away; the military cemetery finally fading out of view as they made their way home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Anne" in this is obviously Anne Catherick from The Woman In White, who in the book (movie, mini-series, musical, etc) had a horrible life so I thought I'd give her a better one by putting her with our boys. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this little addiction! I honestly don't know if there will be any more, but you never know!


	8. 4th of July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful best friend and co-writer of made fun of me and said I was going to write another holiday chapter for Rockabye. I told her I wouldn't do such a thing, but that was because I planned on writing something for this story instead. 
> 
> Honestly, I don't know how I feel about it. Not my best work. Sometimes I feel like I an just flogging a dead horse by updating this fic. Hopefully, you like it. Let's see, shall we?

“You are absolutely out of your mind,” Ben mentioned, his hands falling to his hips as he watched his husband set up the field explosives. 

 

By law, they weren’t married. No, that wasn’t possible for them, though they regarded one another as a married couple just as they would have if they had ended up with women and settled for the same union. They had been together long enough to be considered a married couple and while they couldn’t be together in the eyes of those around them, both Ben and Joe went out of their way to make it as legal as possible, signing their names in their wills as their next of kin and all that other stuff. 

 

They wore rings on their left hands and spoke a promise that was truer than any other. They lived together without fear or without care because to them, they had done nothing wrong. They made their peace with who they were and kept their life to themselves.

 

Both men would go out into the public eye due to their respected careers, but they never forced their relationship onto the world. They lived their life privately but did not hide either. Joe was proud to hold his husband's hand when they were out to eat and Ben had no problem standing next to the man for a photo opt, whether it be at one of Joe’s book signings or one of his art shows. 

 

They had a child now. Two children, to be exact. Anne had flourished wonderfully with them over the time she had stayed with them and when the adoption became final, they found that having a child in the home was exactly what they needed. 

 

Ben had always wanted to be a father, even if he wasn’t so keen on the making of one. He enjoyed children as their minds were far more simple than an adult. They did not judge with cruelty, but rather curiosity. Anne went from being a shy young thing to a spunky, careful little girl. Ben had no regrets when it came to paying off the money to keep her parents at bay. They were nothing to her now and Ben only hoped as she grew up, the memories she kept as a child would be of himself and Joe only. 

 

Ben had begun to persist his husband, figuring that while one child was nice, another would make the house feel like a home. Joe had been against it for a while, for good reasons too. He wanted to make sure that Anne had adjusted to their life before bringing another person into it. After all, she was to be raised by two men, which was strange all on its own, but she had gotten out of terrible home life and had so much to move on from. 

 

Joe was looking out for the girl and that meant a lot to him. But now she was happy and growing and Ben wanted more. So he begged and begged, trying to find little loopholes here and there and prove to Joe that they could have the life that so many others did. Finally, he broke. He didn’t know how exactly it happened, but his husband came to him one night, admitting that he had been thinking about it too. Having another child for them to love and spoil. 

 

Money may not give you happiness, but it certainly allows you to buy things that could make you happy. Money also allowed those in the adoption agency to look the other way when a man wanted to take a child into a home that he shared with another man. 

 

Ben knew it sounded dirty, but he did what he had to do in order for him and Joe to live the life they deserve to live. Unfortunately, there were always going to be people in the world that had a child they did not want. Ben knew people in high places and used those connections to seek out a young woman who was in need of a bit of help. 

 

She was married to a man who was no good for her, all while having an affair with someone else. It was a huge mess and Ben didn’t want to get into it. However, he knew very well that the woman would not be able to pass the child off as her husbands and as a result, had to do away with it once it was born.

 

She was glad enough to have a husband that wasn’t around enough to notice the change in her body and once the babe was brought into the world, she quickly handed it off to one of Ben’s associates, who paid her a good sum for her troubles. 

 

Ben returned from the city, off to his seaside estate with a baby in tow; one that would be given the most love and affection that any child should ever deserve. 

 

Having an infant was far different from having a child, as they could not tell you exactly what was wrong. Lucky for them, Joe’s mother was an expert when it came to infants and became a great help in raising their children. 

 

It was a year after they had taken in the buoyant Joe found that he wanted his children to experience all the things that he had when he was a lad, despite them living in a completely different place. 

 

One of those things, apparently, was the Fourth of July. Ben knew of the holiday as he had spent it in America all those years ago while teaching Joe to paint when they were young and foolish. 

 

Being an Englishman, watching an entire country celebrate the separation from his home was quite baffling, but nothing was more outrageous than Joe planning a party for the day that was mostly ignored in their current homeland. 

 

He had paid for everything, wanting their children to know what it is like to have a bit of fun and celebration for their American culture. Ben had to remind Joe that while they were being partially raised by an American, both hailed from England proudly, though the redhead didn’t seem to care in the least. 

 

He decked their entire yard in red, white, and blue and dressed the very same. Joe’s mother, who came to live with them, helped Anne get ready, doing her hair up and letting the little girl run around with an American flag for good fun. 

 

Joe invited Rami and Lucy to visit, for the time being, paying his best friend to bring some supplies over. They had everything one could need for a stereotypical cookout. Anne was in absolute heavy as she played with the Malek children, running around with little sparklers in their hands as night began to fall. 

 

Rami and Joe went back and forth, telling everyone about all the things they did while as children; all the fun they had during the neighborhood block parties where everyone would just hang out in the street, eat deliciously cooked food and just celebrate a good old fashioned American holiday. 

 

It was rather fun actually and while Ben didn’t exactly understand all the American traditions that Joe had brought over with him when he came to live with him permanently, the blond was more than willing to give them all ago if it meant making Joe happy.

 

It was the final surprise that worried Benjamin so, as his husband and Rami were currently off in the distance setting up the fireworks that other man brought over with him. 

 

Ben had heard the horror stories the last time they were in the states, all about people who had blown off parts of their bodies because of the explosives. 

 

He looked down, finding their son pulling at his shorts as he stood on wobbly legs. Unable to resist that beautiful boy, he scooped him up, making sure to keep a safe distance. “If you kill yourself, I won’t mourn you!” He shouted out to the men. 

 

“Come on! Anne loves them and so do you.” 

 

“Yes, when professionals are doing them.” 

 

“We served in the war,” Rami replied back dryly. “I think we know how to handle explosives.” 

 

Ben sighed, rubbing his son’s back carefully. Joe had come a long way since they first got together. Before, he had been so shell shocked and broken that the idea of being near a firework sent shivers down his spine. Ben was proud of his growth over time, to know that he was all right with the harsh sounds and didn’t suffer from the nightmares he used to not so long ago. 

 

Still. Didn’t mean he was okay with him doing something so dangerous on their property. 

 

Joe hurried over, smiling at the small boy in Ben’s arms. He ducked down to kiss the lad, but Ben swiftly moved out of the way, dodging his husband from kissing their boy. “Nope. We’re upset at you. Aren’t we, love?”

 

“That’s cruel and you know it,” Joe replied, his hands falling on his hips. “It’s safe, Ben. Do you really think I’d do something like this if it wasn’t?” 

 

“To entertain your children?” Ben asked. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” 

 

The two men watched each other, raising brows and quirking smiles. They knew each other mannerisms and reactions and all those other little things that couples do when they have been together for so long. 

 

Ben knew that Joe would do anything for their children. He’d give them the clothes off their back and swallow down his own sense of PTSD just to give them a few minutes of joy. But he also knew he would never do anything wildly stupid like set himself or their home on fire just to put on a good show. 

 

“Just please be careful,” Ben requested softly. 

 

Joe came in, leaning down to press his lips to their son’s head. The small boy touched at his cheek and Joe turned to kiss his chubby little hand, smiling widely as their eyes locked. “I always am.” He replied before going back to help Rami finish up. 

 

Ben went and found his seat beside Lucy. She and Joe’s mother were setting the children up in their little seats as the staff was cleaning up the mess of their party. They decided to do this on the beach, right near the water so the debris from the fireworks would land in the sea and be nowhere near their home. 

 

It was completely ridiculous and only got wilder when Gwilym and his own wife and children came over. It seemed Joe was serious when he said he wanted to have everyone over for the first-ever Fourth of July party in England. 

 

Gwilym plopped down next to him, his own infant daughter seated on his lap. It was a sweet moment, both babies taking one another in. His son was just under a year and had yet to meet anyone else like himself. They touched hands and babbled softly. Ben gave Gwilym an interesting look, one that the taller man returned. 

 

Neither man ever thought they would be here together, with their respected sponges and their children interacting as friends. It was quite wild, to be honest, though Ben would not give it up for anything. He was quite happy with how things turned out and he knew they would only get better as time went on. 

 

“All right everybody! Let’s do this!” Rami shouted as he and Joe hurried over to them. 

 

Anne was practically bouncing in her seat, already telling Gwilym’s oldest how exciting fireworks were. She had only experienced them once but it was a memory that would stay with the little lass for a very long time. 

 

Joe stood behind Ben, his hand on his shoulder as he and Rami counted down the time. When they reached the end, the fireworks went off, shooting off high, sending dozens of flashes and colors into the sky. 

 

Anne cheered loudly with Joe’s mother, while Rami and Lucy’s children clapped happily. Ben had to admit, the scene was rather pretty. The sky lighting up as the booming sounds echoed around them. It was the sounds however that caught the attention of their son, whose eyes welled up with fear. 

 

Joe noticed quickly and scooped the boy up into his arms. “Hey, hey. It’s all right, buddy. Daddy is here.” He hushed softly. He pressed the boy’s head against his shoulder, using his free hand to cover his ear to muffle out the sounds around him. 

 

Ben stood, standing close to the two. He whispered softly, trying to calm the infant as he whimpered, the continuous explosions scaring him easily. Gwilym’s own daughter began to weep and the man took the chance to sneak away into the house, Joe quickly following. 

 

Ben stayed behind, as Anne began to call out to him so they could enjoy the moment together. It was a beautiful sight, that much was for sure, even if it caused a bit of distress for the youngest of the group. 

 

When they were finished, Rami and Ben took the opportunity to clean up, with Rami speaking of how thankful it was that Ben owned a rather large estate so no one would be able to come and question them about the noises or sights. 

 

When it was finished, Lucy and Joe’s mother brought the kids inside so they could prepare for bed while Ben went off to find his husband. He was in Ben’s office, laying back on the couch with their son resting comfortably on his chest. 

 

“He likes the colors,” He mentioned, jutting his chin out towards the wall where a large majority of Ben’s personal pieces were hanging. 

 

“Aside from the wailing, I think that went rather well.” The blond admitted, going to sit on the couch of the couch, his hand landing on Joe’s bent knee. 

 

Joe had put in a large amount of effort to make the day fun for everyone. He and his mother explained to Anne why America had their Independence Day, to begin with and why he made such silly jokes about tea into the harbor. Having Rami around certainly helped on a day like today. Ben had caught them speaking privately a time or two and while Rami might not have suffered as much as Joe had upon returning from the war, he was always there to hold a hand or an ear to his good friend. 

 

Anne had a spectacular day, spending it running around with the Malek children. She had outgrown her shyness and was now a rather proud little girl who liked to take charge and have loads of fun with children her own age. It might have been a bit wild having a party like this in a country that didn’t even celebrate the holiday, but there were no regrets this night in the Mazzello-Hardy household. 

 

“Come here,” Joe gestured, waving Ben on. 

 

The blond moved carefully, kicking off his shoes and shifting on the couch so he too was laying in Joe’s arms. Their son was fast asleep, though Ben swore he moved a bit closer as if he sensed that his Papa was near. The way his tiny nose crinkled and he nuzzled his cheek against Joe’s bare chest as his breathing became more level. 

 

“Happy fourth of July, Joseph.” Ben sighed, already finding himself more content being in his arms. 

 

They wouldn’t fall asleep there. The couch was far too uncomfortable and they knew they had to get their boy up to his crib, but for now, there was nothing wrong with stealing some time together and having a bit of a cuddle. 

 

“Happy fourth, Benjamin.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I left their son unnamed but let us be honest, it is most definitely Joseph Francis Mazzello IV
> 
> So, was it worth your while or should I officially put this puppy to sleep? 
> 
> Please tell me down below.


End file.
